We Can't Afford to be Innocent
by Kamara
Summary: A human girl sneaks past Autobot alarm systems...
1. Default Chapter Title

  
  
WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT   
(The title belongs to Pat Benatar, but I thought it fit)  
  
Chapter One  
  
By Kamara  
  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
"You _are_ joking, aren't you?" Optimus Prime asked  
  
The small group of Autobots glanced at each other and shuffled nervously. The metallic sound seemed to reverberate inside the main control room of the Headquarters twice as loudly as usual. At least twice. Maybe three times.  
  
"I mean, you _have_ to be kidding, right?" Wheeljack demanded almost desperately. "After all that work—" he sputtered wordlessly for a few seconds. "You _have_ to be kiddingI"   
  
More shuffling.  
"You mean t'say—" Wheeljack began to snarl, but Prime reached out to grip his shoulder. "Take it easy, Wheeljack. Let's hear the entire story."  
Cliff jumper coughed. "I found her about half an hour ago, down by the supply rooms." He began to edge a bit farther away from Wheeljack. "Apparently she snuck in on that last supply shipment."  
"which came in a good hour _after_ I installed the new security system." Wheeljack threw the spanner he was holding across the room. Spike ducked behind Bumblebee as it clattered off the wall. "Blast it, Prime, I've worked for days nonstop on that new system, and a _Human girl_ bypasses it the first day its in operation?"  
"Is that a slur on Humans or girls?" Spike asked Bumblebee in a voice that was meant to be overheard. Bumblebee quickly hid his grin.  
"If a Human can bypass it, _Megatron_ oughta be able t'walk right on in!" Wheeljack glared around the room, but no one would meet his gaze. "So how'd she do it?"  
"We don't know yet," Brawn said.  
"I'm more curious to know _why_ she did it," Perceptor said mildly. After the years he had been on Earth, Human motivation still seemed to fascinate him.  
  
  
  
This time Bumblebee couldn't hold back his laughter and joined in with Spike, who was laughing too hard to breathe, much less talk. "She was—" the Autobot tried to gasp out, "She was—"  
Spike laughed even harder at his friend's efforts. Prime glared, and Bumblebee took a deep breath, held it for a brief second and managed to get out "She did it on a dare", before he went off in more gales of laughter at Wheeljack's expression.  
"On a— on a dare?" Wheeljack spat out the word as if it tasted foul. "Someone find out hew she did it, then get your diodes back to me and tell me so I can try and fix this thing so the Decepticons don't waltz in and murder us all in our recharging units!" He stopped to glare one more time at Bumblebee and Spike, who had smothered their laughs back to mere chuckles, but the glare sent them back into gales again.  
Prime sighed wearily as Wheel jack stomped angrily out. "Does anyone know who she is?"  
"Aw, she's just a kid. Prime," Ironhide drawled. "Not much younger than Spike, here."  
"At least a year," Spike put in.  
'That's not the point," Gears grumbled. "Yeah, she seems young, but like Wheeljack says, she bypassed a high-technology security system that she shouldn't have been able to do, _especially_ that young."  
"Chip," Spike reminded. "He could."  
"Chip's been working with us almost as long as you and your dad has. He's used to Transformer systemry. New you're going to tell me that a girl with no previous contact with Autobots can walk in through one of Wheeljack's inventions? And I stress, without _Autobot_ contact?"  
"You think she's a Decepticon spy?" Prime asked in the sudden silence. The room immediately erupted into protests, which only seemed to increase Prime's worry. "She certainly has gained sane champions, at any rate."  
  
"She's a nice kid," Bumblebee said. "She's high intelligence, yes, but so is Carli, and we never accused her. We've never accused _any_ Human who's come to us, and there have been several."  
"We've never had one successfully sneak in, either," Wheeljack said as he came back in. He looked around angrily until he found the spanner he had thrown earlier, snatched it up, and stalked back out again.  
Bumblebee snorted. "He's just angry 'cause she snuck past _his_ invention."  
Prime sounded as if he was trying to hide a smile. "Granted, there is an element of hurt pride, but the question is legitimate."  
"Prime, go down and talk to her and see if you still think that," Cliff jumper said.  
"Very well. Where is she?"  
"We put her in Spike's room."  
"You did what?" Spike looked irritated. "Why my roan?"  
Cliffjumper shrugged. "It's one of the few Human-sized rooms in Autobot Headquarters. The size of everything seemed to overwhelm her a bit. We left her there just before we met up with you and Bumblebee."  
"Well, you could have asked me first," Spike grumbled softly.  
"You weren't around."  
"Yeah, but—" Bumblebee gently nudged his friend, and Spike quieted. Prime studied him for a moment. Wheeljack's anger was understandable and expected, but Spike's sudden irritability was unusual. He dismissed it -— after all, it _was_ an invasion of Spike's privacy, he supposed. He went over and turned on the monitor in Spike's roan. It was empty. "She's not there now."  
"Didn't you lock the door?" Gears asked.   
"C'mon, Gears," Brawn said. "They're simple 'privacy' locks, rather than security. We crossed a few wires to reverse it, but it would be just as easy to cross them back."   
  
"Find her," Prune ordered tiredly. "We don't need this."  
They found her playing in the lake with the Dinobots. As Bumblebee radioed the others in, Grimlock carefully lifted his head with the girl perched on top of it about twenty feet over the water. She ran along his head, down the slope of his nose and dove off, tucking into a somersault and straightening before sliding into the water with hardly a splash. Bumblebee whistled in admiration.  
Sludge dipped his long neck into the water and came out with the girl clinging to his nose. She flipped her black hair out of her eyes, laughing and using the flat of her hands to wipe the excess water from her arms and legs.  
Bumblebee coughed slightly, and Spike did feel uncomfortable, as if he had been deliberately been spying en the girl and was caught. He stepped forward.  
The girl saw him and waved broadly. Then, to everyone's surprise, she swung her legs over the back of Sludge's head and slid down the brontosaurus' neck, over his back, up the curve of his tail and into the air. Bumblebee and Cliffjumper both jumped forward to catch her, but she caught one of Slag's horns, swinging up and over it before dropping lightly to the ground in front of a more-than-slightly-surprised Spike.  
"I knew all those years in gymnastics would come to something, but swinging on the horns of a triceratops?" She shook her head, laughing. "Oh, I know. I was supposed to stay put, but it's so beautiful out, and when I saw Grimlock and the other -- Dinobots, they said they were? -- playing in the water, I had to come out and join them. That was your room I was in, wasn't it?"  
Spike was still trying to recover from her gymnastic feat. "Yeah, how'd you know?"  
"The picture of you and your girlfriend on the bureau." She picked up a towel and wrapped it around her waist in a makeshift skirt. "You'd be Spike and Bumblebee, right?"  
"None other," Bumblebee said with a grin.  
Spike simply hadn't expected her to be so small. She barely came up to his chest, and he was no great height by any means. Her hair was extremely dark, yet her skin was fair and her eyes were a startling vivid blue.  
"Me, Gridlock, want girl to play," Grimlock complained, coming up to lay his huge head on the ground by the girl.   
"Not now, Grimlock," Prime walked up from the Autobot-sized path.   
"Me, Grimlock, want to play," Grimlock said again. "Tarla friend of me, Grimlock. King," he added.   
The girl turned around and leaped up on Grimlock's forehand and said something softly to the Dinobot. Grimlock tilted his head in thought, then nodded. "All right, Tarla." He lumbered to his feet and back down to the lake.  
"What did you tell him?" Bumblebee asked in amazement.  
She smiled slightly, but only turned curiously toward the others. "I know Cliffjumper, Ironhide, and Brawn, but not the rest of you."   
"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots," Prime said, stepping forward. ||  
She looked impressed, but held out her hand anyway. Prime's blue optics widened, either in amusement or surprise, and went down on one knee, carefully extending one finger. Even so, her hand was barely distinguishable against his.  
"My name is Tarla," she said simply.  
Prime waited for more, but she didn't offer it. "This is Perceptor, Gears, Inferno, and Sparkplug," he introduced the four others who had arrived after he had.  
"Yeah, well, introductions are fine and all that, but she still hasn't told us what she's doing here and how she got in," Gears growled.  
"Tactful mechanism, isn't he?" Bumblebee commented with a glare.  
"But correct," Prime said. "Tarla, you managed to pass through a high security system without detection. We'd like to know how you did that."  
Tarla grinned. "It was easy."  
Cliffjumper chuckled. "Better not let Wheeljack hear you say that. He just finished inventing that system you slipped by."  
"Oh." She managed to look contrite for a moment, but her sparkling eyes betrayed her the next. "I'd better keep out of his way, then, huh?"  
"It might be wise to take that into consideration," Perceptor commented. "My colleagues tell me that you undertook this escapade as a dare?"  
"Oh. Yeah." She found another towel and began to dry her hair. "I guess it was, sort of." She looked at them sheepishly from under the folds of the towel and tendrils of black hair. "It's kind of a long story."  
"Aren't they all?"  
"Quiet, Gears." Prime settled down on the grass.  
"Tarla going to tell story!" Grimlock shouted and led the rest of the Dinobots out of the lake. "Me, Grimlock, love stories!" He plopped down next to her, shaking the ground so that she fell back against Spike. Bumblebee supported them both, and she grinned in thanks, "Watch your big nose, Grimlock," she said affectionately. Her eyes suddenly sparkled mischievously, and she vaulted up to perch on Grimlock's nose.  
Prime chuckled, but told her to go on.  
She shrugged. "Two weeks ago, there was a major fire at my school, down in the city."  
"Yeah, the high school," Inferno cut in. "It took me, Bluestreak, and the Protectobots to stop that one. It smoldered all night in one section of the basement, then hit the room where the gas furnace was, and apparently same painting supplies and other flammable stuff were nearby." He shook his head. "It was a real mess. Even with Human and Autobot help."  
Tarla left off drying her hair and draped the towel around her neck. "I don't understand. I thought you were Transformers, yet Commander Prime-—"  
Prime looked embarrassed.  
"—called you Autobots, yet Grimlock here," and she patted Grimlock's nose underneath her. Grimlock started to say something, but Brawn quickly clamped his muzzle to the ground.  
"Keep your mouth shut, Grimlock, or you'll send her flying into the pond," he said gruffly, but with a measure of amused tolerance at the big dinosaur.   
"Thanks, Brawn," Tarla laughed. "As I was saying, Grimlock says he's the leader of the Dinobots, and the Protectobots were the ones who fought the fire. Who are you really?"   
Ironhide gave Prime a surprised look. This was something almost everyone knew.   
"Autobot is the overall term for one of two factions of Transformers," Prime explained. "The Dinobots, Protectobots, and Aerialbots are different categories of Autobots, but we're all the same side."  
"And the other faction?" she asked, and was surprised by the immediate tension.  
"The Decepticons," Prime said slowly, and Spike recognized the tone as one the Autobot leader used when trying to hold back a strong emotion, "are the Transformers who want nothing but power and domination, and will stop at nothing to get then."  
Tarla whistled. "That explains a lot. I have a nasty habit of not paying much attention to what doesn't directly concern me. I rarely listen to the news, and I kept bearing bits and pieces about Transformer attacks, yet the Protectobots help people, so I was confused. I was lucky, I suppose. I could have hitched aboard a Decepticon supply shipment, not knowing there to be a difference. I'd doubt they'd be as hospitable as you. Or enjoy a good swim."  
Grimlock laughed between his locked jaws.  
  
"Speaking of supply shipments?" Gears impatiently reminded.  
  
Tarla nodded. "I watched the Protectobots work—the first time I had ever seen a Transformer. I had to meet and talk to you, and everyone said I'd never get close to you—that you only allow a few select Humans hear you. I had to try." She smiled, the same mischievous smile. "I'm not very good at believing people when they say I can't do something."  
"But how did you get in?" Perceptor asked.  
"The shipment was of energy, right? Well, I worked a while last week and came up with a gadget, that outputs a high energy level. Then, I snuck on one of the plants your energy shipments cone out from and fastened myself in one of the cases. Just in case it didn't cover all the Human readings, I went into deep meditation to decrease my breathing and heart rate."  
Prime sighed in relief. "At least a mechanism couldn't do the same thing. Such circuitry would definitely be picked up."  
Tarla's eyes went serious. "Mechanism? Like a Decepticon? You thought I was one of them?"  
"All suspicions have to be investigated," Prime said. "You bypassed a complicated system with little trouble and we wanted to check you out and make sure."  
"Wheeljack will be relieved," Perceptor said. "If I might examine your —- what do you call it?"  
"I never named it. I didn't mention it to anyone else, so it didn't need naming. But you're more than welcome to take a look at it." She hopped off Grimlock's nose and dug a small handheld device out of her knapsack.   
Perceptor knelt and carefully took it, then hopped backwards, transforming.  
Tarla watched in amazed admiration. "Are you a Sciencebot, then, seeing as you transform into a microscope?"  
Perceptor laughed, a bit self-consciously. "Ah, no. I'm not part of a contingent of Transformers designed for one purpose." He fell silent for a brief moment. "I see how this works. When exposed to an energy reading, it absorbs and magnifies and returns one of its own, correct?"  
  
"Right. Such an output is just enough to cover any bio-transmissions such as a Human would emit."  
"By Cybertron, we've got another one," Brawn groaned. "Would you mind explaining all that so we normal ones can understand?"   
"We did," Perceptor and Tarla said at the same time. Perceptor transformed back. "I'd like to study this more thoroughly with Teletran-One, our master computer. Prime, there may eventually be a way to adapt this for Autobot circuitry as a type of cloaking device. Tarla, if I could discuss your device's construction with you?"  
"Of course." She shouldered her knapsack. "If you'd just let me stop and change first, I'd be glad to help you out."  
"Tarla," Prime called, and she turned back. "What's your last name?"  
"Still checking up on me, eh?" she said a bit sadly.  
"Partially. I was thinking more of letting your family know of your location. It sounds as if Perceptor will have need of your presence here for a while."  
Tarla looked out over the lake for a few seconds. "I don't think you'll have to worry," she said. "My mother split about five years ago and no one knows where she is. As for my father, he was a teacher at my school. He was holding class in the roan directly above the furnace when it went off. No one got out of that room alive."  
"I'm sorry," Prime said gently.  
She shrugged. "So's everyone else." She turned and began to climb the path back to the ship embedded in the volcano.  
"Now what?" asked an unusually subdued Gears.  
Prime studied the tiny form of the black-haired girl, clad in a black swimsuit and towel as she made her way up the path with Perceptor. "She seems to be who she says she is. If she was with the Deceptions, she wouldn't have freely given us that device to study. She also didn't know   
anything about us or the Decepticons or even the War. Unless she's a trained actress, and I don't believe she Is, I think she's being honest with us."  
"I like her," Bumblebee announced. "Hew long will you let her stay. Prime?"  
Prime looked down at Bumblebee in amusement. "It's not so much my permission as it is her safety. Although Decepticon activity has been quiet lately, it never stays that way for long. If they find out that she has developed a prototype cloaking device, they may try to find her."  
"Chip's done a lot along the same lines, and he takes care of himself," Spike said.  
"He lives near here, and has an open line to Teletran-One. Tarla has no one looking after her, and I'm not sending her back alone. Besides, Perceptor has need of her. Spike, would you and Bumblebee show her around?"  
Unexpectantly, Spike scowled. "I'm not a baby-sitter. Prime. Get someone else to play tour guide, and don't settle her In my room." He turned on his heel and stalked off.  
"Spike mad?"  
"I'm not sure, Grimlock." Prime glanced at Sparkplug. "Any ideas?"  
Sparkplug was staring after his son. "None, Prime. He was fine this morning."  
"He wasn't grumpy at all until about an hour ago," Bumblebee said.  
'Yeah, about the same tune we told him that Tarla was in his room," Cliffjumper mentioned.  
Sudden silence.  
"Jealousy?" Prime asked.  
"Not like Spike," Sparkplug insisted.  
"But he was jealous of Carli at first, wasn't he? I'm not—" Prime coughed "—fully informed in „ the subject of Human relation-ships—"  
"He oughta watch more soap operas with us," Brawn murmured. Afternoon soap operas had had a large following among the Autobots during their off-duty hours (and some on-duty, during special episodes and if Prime didn't catch them) for years. It was educational, the first watchers had said defensively. The shows gave insight on Human emotions with situations, daily life occurrences, and so forth. Within a few weeks, the following had grown to over twenty Autobots at a time turning out to see whether or not Sam had left Denise, and there was a running hot line set up for those who missed an episode because of duty.  
"—but are Carli and Spike having any trouble?" Prime continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, and turned to look inquiringly at Bumblebee.  
"Don't look at me!" Bumblebee backed a step, hands held in front of him defensively. "I don't spy on my friends. Besides, haven't you noticed that they take Carli's car now? They won't let me take them on their dates anymore."  
"Why? What'd you do?" Ironhide asked with amusement.  
"Oh... nothing," Bumblebee said innocently, studying his fingers. He caught Prime's look and shrugged. "Look, Prime. Spike's feeling put out right now. He's afraid of being replaced or ignored. Give him some time and he'll snap out of it."  
"You're not worried, then?"  
"Nah."  
"Then you'd all better get back to whatever you were doing." Prune waved them away, and they left, laughing and talking good-naturedly. As an afterthought, Prime called Inferno back. "Just what started that fire?"  
Inferno's usual carefree expression turned sour. "A cigarette, dropped on an exercise mat."  
"And all those people killed because of it," Prime murmured. "How can we help these Humans, if they won't even help themselves? Thank you, Inferno."  
  
"Anytime, Prime." Inferno hurried to catch up to the others.  
  
Ironhide lingered until they had passed out of earshot, then turned back to Prime. "Yer still worried," he stated flatly. "What's buggin' ya, Optimus?"  
  
"I certainly have enough to choose from," Prime answered ruefully. "The Decepticons have been too quite lately. Megatron's up to something, and that has me worried. Wheeljack is on a rampage because his security system doesn't work. A girl manages to sneak past our systems, and that has me worried, and on top of that. Spike's off being angry at the world in general and Tarla in particular. Yes, I'm worried, Ironhide."  
Ironhide sat down next to Prime, looking thoughtful. "Well, Bumblebee's gonna keep an eye on Tarla. Wheeljack'11 calm down as soon as he figures a way to apply his system to Humans as well as to Transformers. Spike'11 calm down once he gets used to Tarla. Megatron will never calm down, so that's what you'll concentrate on, as you always do. And even you can't do much until Megatron makes a move. Too bad we don't have an infiltrator like that Lazer-Buzzard."  
Prime had to chuckle. Ironhide had a list of Decepticon insults as long as Sludge's tail. "You always know what to say, don't you, old friend?"  
"Aw, shucks. Prime. Someone's gotta put things into perspective for you, or you'd stand in front of Teletran worryin' twenty-four hours a day. Ya can't be everywhere at once, so ya might as well stop pretendin' ya can. Although soap operas ain't yer style. Brawn's right — ya don't relax enough. It takes Ratchet, Bumblebee, me, an' ten other Autobots to get you to take time off. Ya oughta go back to Cybertron and see Aleeta-One for a while."  
"A war zone is hardly the area for a vacation," Prime reminded Ironhide, but he suddenly did have a longing to go home. It had been so long since he had seen Aleeta. He shook his head. "I'm going back in, Ironhide. You'd better hurry if you don't want to miss your shows."  
"Of course. Prime," Ironhide said sadly, watching his oldest friend as he walked back to the volcano.  
Grimlock snuck up behind Ironhide and nudged him with his muzzle, nearly knocking the Autobot over. "You play with me, Grimlock? All other friends gone."  
"Grimlock!" Ironhide caught his balance and cuffed the huge Dinobot. "What that oversized nose of yours. Oughta be declared a weapon of its own sort. Big, over-grown Dino-clutz..."  
Grimlock rumbled happily.  
  
  
  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT  
  
by Kamara  
  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
Chapter Two  
  
As Ironhide predicted, Optimus Prime stayed by Teletran-One the rest of the night. He shut down his extra systems until he heard the noises of the Autobots moving through the Headquarters and relieving those who had night shifts. By the time Ironhide, Bumblebee, and Jazz came in, Prime was recharged enough to fool all but Ironhide, who knew him better than anyone else. Ironhide glared at him. "You never listen t'me, Optimus."  
  
Bumblebee stopped in mid-sentence to look curiously at Prime. He obviously didn't believe that something wasn't wrong, but when Prime waved him off, he didn't say anything. Bumblebee was easily as motherly as Ironhide when he was worried. The last time Spike had been sick, Bumblebee had stood guard duty outside his door to make sure he stayed in bed.  
  
"Where did you house our guest last night?" Prime asked, partly out of genuine curiosity, mostly to sidetrack Ironhide off of the lecture he was preparing to give.  
  
It worked. Both Autobots chuckled.  
  
"Well, first Sparkplug offered to give up his room, but Tarla wouldn't allow it. We don't really have any other Human-ish sized rooms. Sparkplug kept insisting, Tarla kept talking about a tent outdoors, and we finally compromised." Bumblebee looked even more amused than usual. "It was a brilliant idea, actually. We sectioned off a corner of the smallest storage room with empty supply cases. Each one is taller than she is, you know. We set one on its side, and Tarla filled it with blankets. It looks more like a nest than a bed, but she loves it. Do you know, she plays the flute? It's beautiful. She played for us after we fixed her room, and she said she's play for all of us tonight."  
  
"Everyone is certainly taken with her," Prime said, not sure if he should add that back onto his list of worries or not.  
  
"Well, she's a new face. Of course everyone's interested in her."  
  
Ironhide took the moment to resume glaring at Prime.  
  
"Yeah, you should hear Grimlock and the other Dinobots." Bumblebee mimicked the Dinobot leader's thick voice. "Tarla come play? Tarla tell story?"  
  
"Is that where she is now?'  
  
"I saw th'girl down by Wheeljack's workshop 'bout half an hour ago," Jazz said.  
  
"That won't stop Grimlock--" Bumblebee caught Jazz's arm. "Did you say Wheeljack's workshop?"  
  
"Sure. Y'goin' deaf or somethin'? I guess I _had_ better keep my music down. Hey! Where're you going?"  
  
"Prime, he'll tear her apart!" Bumblebee was running for the door. "She bypassed security yesterday!" he shouted at Jazz in a means of explanation. He transformed in the hallway and spun off, tires squealing, Prime and Ironhide running after him.  
  
"Bypassed security?" Jazz asked the empty room. "But we all know the old system needed replacing. That's why Wheeljack's installin' the new one today. Now, if she had gotten past _that_ one, that'd be a whole 'nother story."  
  
"The new system was installed yesterday," Teletran-One informed him.  
  
"_Yesterday?_ Wheeljack said he was starting it on Wednesday."  
  
"Today is Thursday."  
  
"It is?" Jazz looked at the door thoughtfully. "Well, if it was installed yesterday, and she got in, it must've been through the new -- well, I'll be. She's cleverer 'n I thought. Wheeljack must've blown a few circuits himself when he heard --" His optics widened. "Oh, my! And she's in his workshop? Th'poor girl!" He ran out the door. "Wheeljack! Hold it, man! She's on our side! Really!"  
  
Bumblebee squealed in through the door of Wheeljack' workshop on two wheels, transformed on the run, and ducked between Wheeljack and Tarla. "Cool down, Wheeljack. Don't lose your temper."  
  
"My temper?'  
  
Ironhide burst through the door. "Don't you touch a hair on that girl's head, Wheeljack!"  
  
In the next instant, Prime ran in. "Easy, Wheeljack. Remember, the humans are our friends. We're supposed to protect them, not harm them."  
  
Wheeljack was looking more and more confused and slightly irritated. "Prime, what's goin' on?"  
  
Jazz careened in, swerved to miss Prime, and crashed into Ironhide. Both fell, and there was a mixture of curses and a general scramble to get up. "Wheeljack -- Ironhide, get off my stomach -- don't hurt her! Ease off the throttle, my man!"  
  
Wheeljack looked at the pile of Autobots on the floor, then at Bumblebee standing defiantly between him and Tarla, then at Prime looking thunderously protective, and threw up his hands in disgust. "Would somebody please tell me what's goin' on?"  
  
There was a general chorus until Prime's voice boomed over the others for silence, and he reached down to pull both Jazz and Ironhide to their feet. "From the way you reacted to Tarla's presence here yesterday, we were uncertain of your reaction to her today," he said tightly, glaring at Wheeljack.  
  
Wheeljack glanced at Tarla. "But why?"  
  
They stared at him. "The security system?" Bumblebee reminded him.  
  
"Oh, that." Wheeljack dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I've fixed that. Tarla 'n me are working on ideas for that cloakin' device. Why didn't ya bring her down yesterday? I could've used th'help then."  
  
"Why, you --" Ironhide spluttered uselessly for a few seconds and could only come up with "Unpredictable mad scientist of an Autobot!"  
  
Jazz sheepishly began to edge out the door, half-hoping that Wheeljack hasn't even realized he was there (impossible) and hoping even more that he would forget that he had ever come in, once the inventor got back to his work (which was much more likely, and was what indeed happened).  
  
Bumblebee looked uncertainty at Tarla and seemed to be convinced by the pile of charts around her and the device in her hand. She was trying not to laugh too loudly.  
  
Prime simply turned and walked out.  
  
Wheeljack looked over at Tarla. "What's with them?" he asked, jerking a thumb at the other Autobots as they left, grumbling, and couldn't understand why the girl burst out into loud laughter.  
  
*  
  
"Spike doesn't like me very much, does he?" Tarla asked Bumblebee later as she rummaged through the refrigerator in the kitchen that had been set up in the Ark for the humans' use. She found a package of ham and added a slice to the sandwich she was making. She slipped it into the microwave, turned it on, then hopped up to sit on the counter to give Bumblebee her full attention. "Does he?" she repeated.  
  
Bumblebee, being the smallest Autobot, as the only one who could really fit in the kitchen, and he still had to kind of curl up in the corner and not move too much, for fear of knocking something over. He was slightly uncomfortable from the position, and began to look even more so at her question. "Well, I wouldn't say that..." he began.  
  
The microwave tinged, and Tarla jumped off the counter. Juggling the hot sandwich in one hand and carrying a glass of milk in the other, she sat on the table. It was the only way she could come close to looking Bumblebee in the eyes. "He's supposed to be your best friend, yet he hadn't come near you if I'm around." She took a bit, chewed it thoughtfully, and swallowed. "For that matter, he won't stay in the same room with me, much less talk to me."  
  
Bumblebee shifted even more uncomfortably. He and the Autobots who were closest to Spike were well aware of how the young human was acting, but were uncertain how they should react. Bumblebee kept insisting that Spike would snap out of it -- it had only been two days -- and Prime had decided to let Bumblebee handle it.  
  
But handling and understanding Spike was a heck of a lot easier than trying to explain him.  
And so he paused carefully, trying to think of the correct phrases and words to try and portray his best friend. Tarla waited patiently until Bumblebee looked up again.  
  
"Spike and I are a lot alike. I'm the smallest Autobot, and Spike's the youngest here. His dad raised him, but he was busy, so Spike was lonely, like I was at times back on Cybertron. Y'know, being the youngest, sometimes the older ones don't have time for you, or treat you as if you're even younger than you really are. So that's why Spike and I teamed together. Mutual spirits, I guess. Well, once on Earth, I become more useful because of Spike. Diplomatic relations, they called it at first. We called it friendship. Something happened to Spike. He was respected and awed by humans and he himself was as fascinated by us as we were by him. He loved being around us when other humans were around. It was a pride factor, y'know. And there's nothing wrong with that. But then, here you come along. You've managed to capture all our attention that's usually reserved for him. Also, you've managed to out-smart some of our most intelligent, which is something he could never do." He didn't mention the attention Tarla was receiving from being a tragic figure, her father having been killed in a fire at the high school. "He's also not the youngest anymore -- even Carli is older than he is."  
  
"Carli?"  
  
"His girlfriend. Tall, blonde -- the girl you noticed in he picture on his bureau."  
  
She nodded, still munching on the sandwich. "So he sees me as a threat?"  
  
"Yep. Already, he's being told to look after you, you were put in his room, and his friends are paying more attention to you than him. This won't last long. Spike's not a malicious person by any means. He's always been a good and loyal friend, and he's the closest friend I've got, Transformer or non."  
  
"Yeah, well _friends_ don't talk about each other behind their backs," Spike snarled from the doorway. His anger was obvious, but behind that, they could both see the hurt. He turned and ran.  
  
"Spike!" Bumblebee lunged to get up, but was wedged so tightly in the tiny room that it was several seconds before he could get out the door. Bu that time, Spike was gone, and the tragic expression on Bumblebee's face was more than Tarla could stand. "Go find him," she urged, pushing the Autobot down the hall. "Go explain, do something, but don't let him think you don't care enough to go after him." Then when Bumblebee paused, obviously torn between the duty of watching after Tarla and the need to go to his friend, Tarla shoved him as hard as she could, which was considerably stronger than her small size belied. "Go!" she said loudly. "I was looking after myself long before I'd even _heard_ of Autobots."  
  
Bumblebee gave her a grateful look and ran down the hall, calling for Spike.  
  
After he had gone, Tarla leaned against the wall, her head buried in her hands. "I'm sorry, Bumblebee" she said softly. She stood like that for a long time before she pushed herself away from the wall and strode down the hall towards her quarters.  
  
Which was where Prime found her later. The storage room was dark, except for the fluttering of a candle flame, and the sounds of a flute came from the corner of stacked supply cases.  
Tarla saw the blue glow of Prime's optics as he stopped to let them adjust to the dimness. She lowered her flute. "Come on in, Commander Prime," she called.  
  
"Just call me Prime, please," he said, traces of embarrassment in his voice, and came forward. She was curled in the nest of blankets. Bumblebee had been precise in his description -- nest was the perfect work. Candlelight gleamed off the silver of the flute in her lap.  
  
"I gather Bumblebee told you?" she asked.  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
She sighed and waved Prime towards one of the cases. "Sit down." She held up the steaming mug from the floor in front of the bed-case. I'd offer you some, but..." she shrugged with a slight smile.  
  
The smell was unfamiliar, different from the smell of the coffee Sparkplug drank in vast quantities in the mornings. "What is it? It smells like... flowers?"  
  
"Close. Herbal tea. Jasmine, to be exact." She took a sip, then carefully tucked the blankets closer around her, trying not to spill the tea.  
  
"Why the darkness?" Prime asked. "We do have lighting; you need not work by candles. If there is a short in the system, it can been fixed --"  
  
"Don't you dare touch it! I had a devil of a time trying to get the lights to stay off. The system kept trying to turn them back on again. There's a short there now because I did it myself. I'll repair it later. I just wanted darkness. It's the best way to get in a mood to play and think." She caressed the flute, turning it so the candlelight gleamed off it again.  
  
"If you want to be alone..." Prime started to get up, but Tarla waved him back.  
  
"No, I don't mind. What did you want? Although if you're down here to watch over me while Bumblebee's talking to Spike, it's not necessary. Or do you still not trust me?"  
  
"It's not a matter of trust, Tarla, but of protection. You have little knowledge of the Headquarters, and even less of what to do if the Decepticons attack. I can't afford to have my warriors distracted while they're being gunned down, because they don't know if you are safe or not. Do you understand that?"  
  
She thought for a second. "Not really, But I know nothing of the Decepticons."  
  
"Then perhaps you are fortunate," Prime said softly. "For there is a reason why we keep few humans around us. To keep them from dying because of us. To Megaton, humans are nothing. To us, humans are everything, and therefore our biggest weakness."  
  
"Megatron?"  
  
"The Decepticon leader. If they captured you, Spike, or any of our other human friends, we would have to choose between whatever Megatron wants -- which only rarely does not mean detrimental harm for the Autobot cause, Cybertron, or, more likely, Earth itself. We would have to choose between that and watching Megatron terminate you before our optic sensors."  
  
Tarla looked pale in the darkness, shadows from the candles flickering across her face.  
  
"You see, Tarla," Prime said softly, "it is not only you I am thinking about, but also my Autobots, all humans, and your world. This is not one of your cartoons. Megatron plays for keeps."  
  
She toyed with the flute, then looked up. "I understand, Prime. I apologize for my impatience. I did not realize your intentions. It's --" and she smiled ruefully. "It's been a strange week."  
  
"Affirmative." Seeing her so solemn and scared in such a vivid contrast to her usual vitality was disturbing, in an unfamiliar way. He abruptly leaned forward and gestured at the flute. "Bumblebee says you're a good musician."  
  
She grinned. "Fair to middlin', I suppose."  
  
"Have you met Jazz? He'd love to hear you play. He's one of our best on Earth culture. And then there's Blaster, but his taste runs more towards rock, the harder and louder the better." Prime shuddered, much to Tarla's amusement. "Also, Skids, our theoretician and anthropologist would most likely be fascinated. We've never had a musician here before. Smokescreen might also be interested. Of course, you've already won over Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, and Ironhide. And I should have realized that Wheeljack's temper would stabilize as soon as he found something new to work on."  
  
"Don't forget the Dinobots," Tarla laughed, but at the same time, she was studying Prime curiously. As the Autobot leader began talking about his followers, his formal manner had relaxed until he was talking to Tarla on an equal basis, and not the somewhat detached leader-ish way that she had noticed before. She wondered how many others had witnessed this. "You care about them greatly, don't you?" she asked gently.  
  
Prime visibly came out of his musing, and she could almost see the struggle between the leader and the person. The barrier almost came up again, but finally Prime dropped it completely and nodded. "They are my friends and their lives depend on me." Like Tarla had done when telling about her father, his optics focused on the wall past her. "Every time something happens to one of them, I wonder what I could have done to have prevented it from happening, knowing it was my fault. I should have planned better, should have foreseen, should have _something_. And to know Megatron takes such pleasure in destroying one of us..." His hand clenched into a fist, shaking with an anger that was rarely revealed, always felt. His gaze was drawn to it, and he signed, slowly relaxing and releasing the clenched fingers. "And even so, I cannot _help_ but respect him, his intelligence, cunning, and power. In another time, we might have been friends. Then again, I easily could have been a Decepticon leader."  
  
"Never!" Tarla cried, surprising herself.  
  
"You'd be surprised," Prime said, almost to himself. "I was not always Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."  
  
Tarla curled even tighter among the blankets and leaned forward eagerly at the story-telling tone. She reminded him absurdly of Grimlock and so he abandoned the last of his reservations of her. And in doing so, he knew he had accepted her as he had few other than Ironhide and Ratchet.  
  
"Back when Cybertron was still unified, I was a warehouse worker in an energon storage facility. I was young, about the equivalent of your age. There was no war, no worries, except getting my work done as soon as possible so I could enjoy the free time with my friends, and Ariel, my girlfriend. I was rather a hot-mouth, impetuous. My name then was Orion Pax."  
  
He went quiet for a moment, and Tarla tried to picture a younger version of Prime as he had described himself, carefree, in love. It was hard... but not impossible.  
  
"A new form of Transformers had begun to emerge. We were all curious about them. They could fly, you see, and we couldn't do more than glide. At that age, you want to believe in a hero so badly that you'll grab at anything new, as we did these new Transformers. When some of them came to the warehouse, we flocked around then. They talked with us pleasantly, and we knew the rumors of attacks had to be false. Until the leader demanded all the energon. I tried to stop him, but he pushed me away, brought up that huge cannon of a gun on his arm to bear on me. Ariel screamed and ran forward, between me and that gun. 'This can't be happening,' I kept thinking. 'He won't shoot her, not a female.' I tried to get to her, but that push was harder than I thought and I was still destabilized."  
  
Prime fell silent again. Tarla was frozen, dreading, yet knowing what had happened next.  
  
"He shot her," he said in the wondering voice of someone very young, very confused, and very scared. It was the voice of Orion Pax. "He shot her, and she fell, smoke billowing from what had been her chest, and I saw in her eyes the same surprise that this could happen, and then the pain, and still surprise, for even then, she still could not believe a Transformer could kill another Transformer, much less her. And then there was nothing but the pain, and her optics went dim, and she flew back with the blast against the wall and crumpled to the floor, and Megatron _laughed_ as he turned and shot down each of my friends. I screamed and went for him, and he shot me as well, and the last thing I saw was the smoke from his cannon and the last thing I heard was his laughter."  
  
It was a long time before he looked up and saw that she was trembling. "I am sorry," he said. "It was hardly the type of story you were expecting."  
  
She swallowed. She wasn't even sure she could talk until she forced herself to stammer., "But... but how... I mean..."  
  
"I could not be repaired. But I could be remade. I was taken to Alpha Trion, who foresaw the need of an army to battle the Decepticons, and the need of a leader the match of Megatron. There is very little of me that is still Orion Pax, except the memories. One day I shall kill Megatron, or he will kill me, or we will kill each other trying."  
  
"Did -- did any of your friends...?"  
  
"Survive?" The cold way he anticipated her questions was more frightening than what she had just heard. "None of them survived as they were. Like myself, they were remade, refitted for the Autobot armies. There are very few of us left. Ironhide is one. Another one, not one of Orion's friends, but another worker at the same warehouse, actually survived. He is back on Cybertron. His real name is Pickup Truck, but he goes by Kup. As for Ariel... she was remade into Aleeta-One. And I left her to die on Cybertron."  
  
He was silent for an even longer time, until Tarla thought he wouldn't speak any longer.  
  
"I held up the Ark's launch for as long as I could. The building was exploding around us when she and the other female Autobots burst through. They almost made it. But the building collapsed between us, and we knew they could never get through in time. She radioed through and told us to launch, and we had no choice. The last thing I saw before we launched was her and the other females turning to face off the Decepticons. I thought she had died. It wasn't until about a year ago that I found out that she had survived, she and some of the other females. They have formed a strike team against Shockwave and the Decepticon forces on Cybertron."  
  
"But that's wonderful!" Tarla cried. "She's alive."  
  
"But I can never forget that it was my inaction against Megatron that killed Ariel, and that I left her behind in a lost war."  
  
"There was nothing else you could have done," she whispered. "If you had waited then, you _and the Ark_ would have been destroyed. Just like you tol me -- the choice between one person, and the cause to save a people and a world."  
  
"Logically, yes, but that doesn't make the situation any easier."  
  
There didn't seem to be much to say after that. Prime finally sighed. "I can now understand your method -- your mood setting, I believe Jazz would call it. It does seem to be very effective."  
  
Without another word, Tarla lifted the flute to her lips and began to play.  
  
And so, Prime finally took Ironhide's advice and ignored the nagging thought that there was work for him to do. In fact at one time during the next hour, Ironhide himself came bay, checking on Tarla as he had promised Bumblebee. On seeing Prime in the storage room, optics dimmed, but focused on the girl, he began to smile. "Well, I'll be..." he drawled softly and quietly stepped back out the door and continued down the hall.  
  
Tarla finally lowered the flute, then grinned at Prime. "So, what kind of music do they play on Cybertron?"  
  
Prime stopped to think. "It's been so long. There were so few musicians after the Wars started. There must be some tapes somewhere on the Ark. I'll look when I have some spare time."  
  
"Which isn't often, I'll bet," Tarla commented. She had seen Ironhide step in and had correctly guessed why he had left.  
  
Prime nodded absently, not really hearing what he had heard from Ironhide and Ratchet so often.  
  
"Well, I usually practice in the evenings. You're always welcome to stop by. You're a good audience." She suddenly grinned wickedly. "We might even make a musician out of you yet."  
  
Prime coughed. "It's... uh... been tried. Jazz finally declared me tone-deaf."  
  
She laughed. "Ah, Prime, if it wasn't for Aleeta-One, I'd wish you were human."  
  
"And," he answered, "if it wasn't for Aleeta-One, I'd wish you were an Autobot."  
  
She leaned forward, the impish grin still crossing her face. "And how do Autobots make love?"  
  
If she had ever wanted to see Optimus Prime shocked beyond words, she got it then.  
  
"Well?" she prompted. "Where _do_ baby Autobots come from?"  
  
"The workshop?" Prime returned as innocently as he could.  
  
Tarla stared at him, just as wordlessly as he had done a few seconds ago, spluttered, then gave up and laughed. "You're terrible," she finally managed to get out, shaking her head ruefully. "How many people know you have as wicked a streak as mine?"  
  
"Not many." Prime stood up and walked toward the door.  
  
"You're not going to answer my question, are you?" she demanded indignantly.  
  
"Affirmative." Prime stepped out the door and into the hall. There was a soft _thump_ as a pillow flew out and ricocheted off the opposite wall. Prime picked it up between his thumb and forefinger and gently tossed it back in, then quickly keyed the door shut. He snapped the control plate off the wall, found the short in the lighting systemry, quickly repaired it, then reactivated the storage room lights. He chuckled at the sudden squawk and hurried away before Tarla's eyes could adjust to the light enough to give pursuit.  
  



	3. Default Chapter Title

WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT  
  
by Kamara  
  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
"You are certain you've seen nothing unusual?" Prime asked, frowning at the screens of topographical maps as they flicked by on the computer screen.  
  
"Give me a break, Prime. I'm good at my job," Hound said with a touch of hurt dignity. "I gather the other scouts are reporting the same thing?"  
  
"Affirmative." Prime glared at the screen. It's been three months since the last Decepticon activity was reported. "They're being _seen_, but they don't appear to be _doing_ anything. I don't understand."  
  
"He's gettin' antsy," Ironhide said in an aside to Jazz. "I say _we_ go find _them._"  
  
"Negative, Ironhide," Prime automatically answered. Like the old warrior's nurse-maiding, his eagerness to "kick Decepticon tail" was common enough to let it go in one audio receptor and out the other. "But they must be up to something. Jazz, double the scouting teams and pay attention to --"  
  
There was a scrambling noise and yelling out in the hall, and Tarla careened into the room. She slid across the metal floor and plopped down, sitting back against Prime's leg. She pulled out a magazine from her back pocket and quickly opened it. "I've been here all the time," she said hurriedly. "'Sides, you owe me one, Prime, for the lights."  
  
A second later, Bumblebee came tearing in, streaming water. "Where is she?" he shouted.  
  
"What in tarnation happened to you?" Jazz asked.  
  
"The fiend set the fire sprinklers so they came on full blast when I came in from patrol!"  
  
"Nonsense," Jazz said in amusement. "I just came in that way."  
  
"She was waiting and turned them on just when I came through!" Bumblebee lunged for Tarla and she dodged behind Prime. "It couldn't have been me," she said defensively. "I was here reading the whole time, wasn't I, Prime?"  
  
"Bumblebee, you are creating puddles," Prime observed thoughtfully.  
  
"I know I'm creating puddles!" Bumblebee howled. "I know better than anyone that I'm creating puddles. And I'm about to create another one right now. A human puddle!" He tried to duck around Prime, but Tarla countered his movement. "Prime, help me," she cried.  
  
"Enough!" Prime snapped.  
  
"But Prime--"  
  
"I said that was enough, Bumblebee. Our meeting has been interrupted with this noise, and this water is turning the Ark into something Sludge would live in. I believe some sort of punishment must be dealt out."  
  
"Prime!" Bumblebee wailed. Jazz and Ironhide stared in surprise.  
  
"Yes, one must take responsibility for one's actions," Prime said thoughtfully and suddenly bent to pick up Tarla. She squeaked and demanded for him to put her down, but he motioned for Bumblebee to follow and walked out.  
  
They gathered quite a crowd as they walked through the Ark; Autobots who noticed Bumblebee's crestfallen and hurt expression, those who wondered why he was wet when it wasn't raining out, those who had been the butt of Tarla's jokes and pranks and were anxious to see someone else fill that role, those who wondered at the unusual gleam in Prime's optics and those were off-duty and simply didn't have anything better to do. Their curiosity grew as Prime left the Ark and headed down the path to the Dinobots' lake. And nobody cheered louder than Bumblebee when Optimus Prime pitched Tarla into the lake. Prime waited until the cheers died.  
  
"Responsibility for one's actions, Tarla," he said remindingly, and turned back to the Ark.  
  
"That's _two_ I owe you, Prime," she shouted above the laughter. "Two!" Then she gave up and swam over to the delighted Dinobots.  
  
And that had been the way the last ten days had been. Tarla had generally been accepted -- there were a few who still grumbled, but they did so more quietly, as there were still more who would defend the young girl. After the first few disagreements, Prime had issued orders, Tarla had packed and was about to leave until Bumblebee had dragged her back, and if the fights did not stop completely, at least they were handled more quietly.  
  
But it was not uncommon to find Tarla telling stories to the Dinobots, or playing flute for Jazz or whoever else joined them, or down in the workshop areas with Wheeljack, Ratchet, or Perceptor, or a combination of the three, or out driving with Bumblebee, or listening to Ironhide's "glory tales".  
  
However, it was Prime she went out of her way for, and ran errands for, and simply sat in the room he was working in so he wouldn't be alone as much as the role of leader had pressed him into being. And no matter how busy Prime might be, he always managed to find an hour or two in the evenings to sit in the corner of a candlelit herbal-scented storage room to listen to the music of the flute. Ironhide had noticed this from the first day and began "unobtrusively" rearranging work schedules and took on extra monitoring duties himself so that Prime wouldn't be disturbed. In fact, Ratchet came in on Ironhide "convincing" one of the more hotheaded of the Aerialbots that it would be more toward his interest to work an extra shift. After all, it was better than spending the next week or so in Ratchet's repair bay, wasn't that right, Ratchet?  
  
Ratchet coughed slightly and thought it was best to simply nod. Slingshot sullenly agreed and Ironhide sent him out.  
  
Ratchet chuckled. "You sneak around even less, and Prime will _have_ to notice. I'm sure he knows you're doing this."  
  
"Shucks, Ratchet, not much happens that Optimus doesn't know about. But he's not objectin', and it seems t'be workin'."  
  
"Actually, it is." Ratchet waved a read-out at him. "He's not as drained as he usually is when he reports in for a recharge. And do you know, I walked in when no one else was around, and he was _humming_. _On tune!_"  
  
"But he's never --"  
  
"I know that. But I talked to Tarla and Jazz for a while, and they both agreed that Prime couldn't concentrate on tones simply because he never took the time to. It's logical that if he's relaxing and listening to music as much as he has been lately, that he'd develop the ear that he and everyone else gave up on. In our opinion, that's the best sign yet."  
  
Ironhide chuckled. "Poor Optimus. "E'erone's gangin' up on him."  
  
"Yeah, well, he seems to be enjoying it. But don't be too forceful, or he'll have to stop overlooking it, and then we'll be back where we started."  
  
*  
  
But Prime had been right all along. Things had been too quiet for too long. And while it wasn't exactly what Ratchet had meant, things were back as they had started, and as they had been for eons.  
  
*  
  
Tarla was down by the lake when the klaxon alert went off, and she jumped, nearly falling off Sludge's back. As it was, she nearly dropped the book and barely managed to catch it before it went into the water. "What is that?"  
  
Grimlock glanced up at the Ark, unconcerned. "Alarm. Decepticons attack. Finish story."  
  
"An attack?"  
  
"They want us, they call. They go in first, get in trouble, up to us to save them. Me, Grimlock, strongest. Finish story."  
  
"Later," she promised absently and dove into the water. She swam across the lake, found the skirt that she wore over her swim suit, and ran back to the Ark.  
  
It was in a state of controlled pandemonium. Announcements were coming out over the PA system, calling warriors to report to Prime, and ordering replacements to fill in for those who were being called out.  
  
Being so much smaller than the Autobots crowding the corridors, she was able to dodge and dart her way to the main control room where Prime was shouting out last orders. "Jazz, Ironhide, Wheeljack, House, Cliffjumper, Perceptor, Prowl, Ratchet, Bumblebee -- transform and roll out!" He suited action to words, the trailer rolling up to hitch behind him. He was followed by each of the others. Spike vaulted into Hound's front seat, and Tarla caught Bumblebee's hurt expression in the instant before he transformed. Even so, his door automatically opened half-way for Spike, and Tarla caught it and jumped in before it could close.  
  
"What are you doing?" Bumblebee hissed.  
  
"Going with you. I've never seen either Decepticons, or you all in action. If Spike's going, I am too."  
  
"Spike's been with us for years. Now would you get out?"  
  
"Not on your life."  
  
"Bumblebee, what's keeping you? Get in gear!" Prime ordered as he roared out.  
  
"But -- oh, great. I'm gonna get in trouble. Tarla, Prime'll have my fenders," Bumblebee moaned, but zipped after the others.  
  
"So fill me in. What's going on??"  
  
Bumblebee sighed, but gave in. "Remember that meteor that hit about three months ago a ways from here? The Deceps are hitting the site. The meteorologists called in when they caw the 'Cons flying for them."  
  
"But why the meteor?"  
  
"Dunno, but I can guess. That meteor's prob'bly made of something Megatron wants. Which is mostly likely why Prime ordered Perceptor along. Perceptor's not a warrior," Bumblebee said, but without a trace of condescension. "But he's the best there is at what he does. When you can understand what he's talking about enough to appreciate it. Now, I've got to listen for orders, so I'll hafta to ask you to keep quiet. When we get there, I'll drop you off with Spike, and you're gonna hafta promise me you'll stay put. Prime's gonna kill me as it is," Bumblebee grumbled.  
  
"So make a good showing, so he won't mind."  
  
"Where you're concerned?"  
  
"What'd you say?"  
  
"Nothing. You'll hafta be quiet now. We're almost there."  
  
"That was quick."  
  
She could hear the smug grin in his voice. "Autobots can override speed limits during emergencies."  
  
"Must be nice."  
  
"Hush."  
  
Up ahead, she could already see the dust swirl as Prime transformed back into robot mode, leaving the trailer behind as he followed the road downhill and our of sight at a dead run, gun held at the ready. The other Autobots followed. It was unsettling, Tarla realized, to see her friends who had listened to her music, laughed with her, had replaced her family, suddenly bristling with weapons and looking deadly grim.  
  
Hound squealed out of line for a brief moment. He didn't take the time to stop, but instead gunned around hard in a tight circle as Spike leapt out with a large knapsack. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Hound peeled out and roared away. Spike was already pelting up the incline when Bumblebee, who _did_ take the time to stop, let Tarla out. "Follow him, and for Cybertron's sake, stay with him!"  
  
She waved, already trotting up after Spike. She scrambled up the last of the blackish rock terrain to him. "Hi," she said breathlessly, and without taking her eyes off the crater in the plateau below. She barely had time to take it in -- the six Transformers lifting a protectively sealed case out of a crater that had recently been enlarged, another Transformer in the shape of a spaceshuttle waiting, and one other, larger, and immensely more menacing than the others, giving commands -- barely had time for it all to register before Prime leapt out.  
  
"Megatron!" he roared.  
  
The Decepticon leader spun. "Prime!" he snarled. "Decepticons, defend the meteor. We must have it!"  
  
"Not if I can help it," Prime said and fired. Megatron dodged, leapt backward, transforming into a gun the size of a cannon and landing into the arms of the nearest Deceptacon, and the shooting started.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Spike growled as he broke open the knapsack. He quickly began to assemble a small grenade launcher.  
  
"What's that?' she asked, ignoring his question.  
  
"Exactly what it looks like. He pushed the knapsack at her. "As long as you're here, make yourself useful. Hand me grenades as I need them."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"You'd better." Spke took the first grenade and dropped in into the launcher. "This is a new idea. It's not as much use when they go hand-to-hand out there, but in a firefight --" He lined it up at the Decepticon who was wielding Megatron -- a blue-tinted Decep counterpart of Blaster -- and fired. The Decepticon flew backwards in the blast, releasing Megatron, who transformed just before he landed. Prime lunged forward before Megatron could regain his footing, but another Decep fired, missing Prime, but knocking the gun from his hand. Spike rammed another grenade home and fired. The grenade exploded as the Decep aimed again, and the laser shot went wild. Ironhide snarled and ran forward before the Decep could fire again, and Prime went after Megatron.  
  
"But in a firefight, it's pretty damned effective," Spike finished. "We've got them outnumbered. It won't take long. Just for your information, the one who was firing Megatron was Soundwave, the shuttle is Astrotrain, the one Ironhide is fighting is Thrust. The ones with the green tint are the Constructicons. They're probably the ones that dug out the meteor. Speaking of which --" He swung the launcher to aim at the case.  
  
Tarla caught his arm. "We don't know what that thing's made of. For all we know, a grenade could explode it and kill everyone out there."  
  
He nodded reluctantly. "I'll just find another use for it. "And he quickly fired at one of the Constructicons, who rolled out of the blast, beating frantically at the flames crawling up his leg. He barely had time to recover before Prowl attacked him. On the other side of the crater, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper hit Soundwave from opposite sides. The other five Construticons gave up trying to load the meteor and drew guns.  
  
There was a roar of jets as five planes flew in, transforming and landing. Two were of the same series as Thrust, the other three were of a different. The leader stepped forward, firing the two lasers mounted on his arms. Cliffjumper ducked behind a boulder as one burst barely missed him, and Bumblebee dove into the crater.  
  
"Starscream," Spike muttered. "Grenade."  
  
She slapped one in his hand.  
  
"Congratulations, mighty Megatron," Starscream sneered in a high-pitched, metallic voice -- he was aptly named. "Your plan was _so_ infallible. Your success is indisputable."  
  
"Get the meteor out of here!" Megatron growled between locked jaws. He brought his fist forward, crashing against Prime's jaw with strength enough to pulverize a brick wall. Prime staggered, and one of the other jets placed a burst high in his shoulder. Tarla could hear Prime's grunt of pain.  
  
Spike heard her gasp. "Don't worry. Prime can take whatever Megatron can give and return it by twice. Still --" he launched the grenade at Megatron as the leader brought up his gun. "There's no need for Megatron to get over-confident."  
  
"As you command, mighty Megatron," Starscream replied smoothly. He and the other jets formed a line between the Autobots and the Constructicons as they continued to load the meteor into Astrotrain.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Spike murmured vindictively. "Let's see how you deal with this." He slapped another grenade in the launcher and began to aim again.  
  
"No," snarled a voice from behind them. "Let's see how ya deal w'_this_!"  
  
They whirled. "Frenzy," Spike gasped, then tried to push Tarla out of the way as the smaller, more human-sized Decepticon's arms transformed into powerful pike drivers and began to hammer at the ground. The ledge they were on trembled, and Spike was thrown off-balance enough to fall, and holding on to Tarla enough to pull her over with him. She clawed at the rocks and slowed her fall, rolling more or less harmlessly to the ground. Spike shot past her, tumbled to a stop, and tried to climb to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Frenzy saw the movement and passed right over Tarla. Spike tried to roll away, but Frenzy caught his arm and wrenched him to his feet.  
  
"Now, what do we have here?" he said in a terrifying croon. "A present for Lazerbeak, perhaps? He's so talented at getting what we want from prisoners. Or mebbe I should just break your neck now!"  
  
A few rocks were still bouncing down the cliffside. Tarla reached out and somehow found the barrel of the grenade launcher, bent and badly dented. Without another thought, she threw it. It hit Frenzy directly in an optic sensor. He howled and stumbled backwards, releasing Spike. Bumblebee tackled Frenzy hard. "Let's see how you deal with someone your own size," he growled, pounding Frenzy's head against the ground.  
  
"Forget size," snarled one of the jets like Starscream. "Fight where you can win." He fired, one laser at Bumblebee, one at the humans. The line of brush in front of Tarla sparked and burst into flames --  
  
--_flames roaring, smoke choking her, blinding her as she ran down alien corridors that had been as familiar as a second home for four years, explosions from the science wing, the blaring of alarms, screams_--  
  
"Tarla, get out of there!!" Bumblebee screamed. The girl was frozen, pale against the flames, backed up against the cliff --  
  
--_screams, echoing through the red haze, people pushing past her, slamming her against the wall of lockers_--  
  
"Tarla!" Wheeljack shoved Soundwave aside and ran forward --  
  
--_clutching against the lockers, panting for the breath her lungs couldn't bring in through the smoke, instinctively brushing her fingers against the locker number, realizing it was Eva's, her best friend_--  
  
Prime forgot Megatron, fighting to push him away and reach Tarla. Megatron took advantage of the distraction and smashed his fist against Prime's wounded shoulder. "Decepticons, retreat!" he shouted. "We have what we came for!"  
  
The jets leapt into the air, transforming, and swooped down, firing on the Autobots. They dove for cover, and the other Deceps broke free and either flew or ran into Astrotrain, who hit the sky the second he could --  
  
--_Eva, who would be sitting her fifth period class, the one her father taught, Eva, who always complained how hot it was in that room, right over the furnace, the furnace that exploded_--  
  
Someone caught her up, throwing her over a shoulder, a human shoulder, she dimly realized --  
  
--_running back through the halls, trying desperately to find a room door that had been left open when the classes had emptied, finally finding the window at the end of the hall, throwing her bookbag through it, screaming, feeling a huge metal-shod hand lifting her gently out, and still screaming, fear, even though she knew she was safe, but knew that her father and Eva were_ --  
  
-- screaming, the smell of smoke thick, felt herself being set down, knew she was safe, but still screamed, screamed, screamed --  
  
Something hit her hard, and she snapped back from the strange mixture between memories and reality, and looked up into Spike's pale face, his expression torn between fear and worry. One of his wrists was already blackening from Frenzy's vise-like grip, but he shifted his weight to support her when she suddenly began to cry. And she cried harder, as hard as she had been screaming seconds ago, cried at her memories, at Prime as his shoulder sparked and ran fluid, and at Wheeljack, who was laying in a crumpled heap on ground blackened by the laser fire of several jets.  
  



	4. Default Chapter Title

WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT  
  
by Kamara  
  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
"How bad is he, Ratchet?" Prime asked.  
  
Ratchet didn't take the time to look up from Wheeljack. "He's not good, Prime. I'm patching him up as best I can, but I _must_ get him back to the facilities on the Ark."  
  
"Do it, then." Prime glanced over at the small trio of Bumblebee, Spike, and Tarla. The girl was still sobbing uncontrollably, and Prime felt a wrenching urge to go to her, but the situation was still too demanding. More disturbing was the possessive surge he felt at the sight of Spike comforting her.  
  
"You're hurt, too." Ratchet glanced up. "Ironhide, do your best to do a field dress on him and send him to me when he gets back." He stood back and transformed, carefully loading Wheeljack. "I'm expecting you, Prime. You'll regret it if I have to come looking for you."  
  
Prime had to chuckle. "I suppose I will. Take care of Wheeljack."  
  
"I plan to." And Ratchet roared off.  
  
Ironhide slipped up behind Prime and tried to catch his arm, but Prime turned the opposite direction and Ironhide missed. "Blast it, Prime, Ratchet said --"  
  
"Later, Ironhide. What happened to the meteorologists?"  
  
"Dead," Prowl said softly.  
  
Silence.   
  
"Damn Megatron," Hound whispered.  
  
"Perceptor, take samples. I want to find out what the meteor is made of and why Megatron wants it. Prowl, you and Hound follow the Decepticons. See if you can determine where they took the meteor. Jazz, you and Cliffjumper stay here. See what you can discover from the meteorologists' notes. I'll send Sunstreaker back with Chip and see if he can help. As for those three..." he turned back to Tarla and the others and sighed.  
  
"Give 'em a few minutes more, Optimus," Ironhide said softly. "Something more happened to that girl than just the battle. Besides," and this time he signaled to Jazz and they both caught Prime's arms. "This gives us a chance to patch you up, or else Ratchet'll take us _apart_ instead of putting us back _together_."  
  
Prime relented, and Ironhide began to work, fussing over him. Tarla had stopped crying by the time Ironhide was satisfied that Prime's arm wasn't going to fall off at the shoulder. Prime shoo-ed Ironhide away and walked over to the three. "Are any of you injured?"  
  
"Spike's arm," Tarla said, her face still muffled in Spike's shoulder.  
  
"Then get back to the Ark. I want to see you all tonight at 18:00. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, Prime," they chorused softly. Bumblebee transformed, and Spike started to help Tarla up, hesitated, then effortlessly picked the tiny girl up in one arm. He carried her over to Bumblebee and gently placed her in the shotgun seat.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He turned back to Prime, cradling the arm left black from Frenzy's grip. "Yes?"  
  
"There's a tin of tea in her quarters. Make her a cup. It will help her calm down." He paused for a second. "It was the fire, wasn't it?"  
  
Spike nodded. "Yeah. She couldn't even move. I've never seen anyone so terrified." He studied Prime for a moment. "Tea, huh?"  
  
"Jasmine." And he couldn't quite comprehend the expression Spike was giving him. "Get that arm seen to," he said gruffly and turned away as Spike slipped into Bumblebee's driver seat. The VW rolled away before Prime changed his mind and started lecturing them there.  
  
*  
  
But it was only prolonging the inevitable, and at six that night, they were standing in front of Prime once again. Spike, arm bandaged, was standing slightly apart from the other two, looking defiant, yet somehow confused behind that. Tarla had changed out of the swimsuit and skirt, but she was still pale and shaken. She and Bumblebee were exchanging guilty looks.  
  
Prime had long since learned that silence was much more effective than loud words. He simply stood and watched them.  
  
Tarla stopped forward. "Prime, Spike didn't even know I was coming. And I -- I really didn't give Bumblebee much of a choice either."  
  
Prime continued to regard them thoughtfully.  
  
"Well, I should have said something, or stopped and made her get out," Bumblebee said miserably.  
  
He still watched them.  
  
Tarla began to fidget nervously. "How's your arm?" she suddenly asked.  
  
Prime had to fight back a chuckle. "Now that you two have managed to lecture yourselves --"  
  
"Guilt trip," Bumblebee muttered.  
  
"-- you've saved me the trouble of doing it myself. Spike, I realize you had no knowledge of this. In fact, you are to be commended for all you did today. Now." He turned to Tarla and Bumblebee again. "Tarla, after all I told and warned you, you recklessly endangered yourself and others when they were distracted by the danger you were in."  
  
She closed her eyes in a mixture of guilt and inner pain. Her lips silently formed Wheeljack's name.  
  
"When you first came here, you put yourself under my authority. You are confined to your quarters for four days, with the exception of human necessities."  
  
"Human necessities?"  
  
"Meals and bathroom trips," Spike supplied.  
  
"Knowledge from experience?" she shot at him.  
  
Spike actually grinned. "You bet."  
  
"Tarla --" Prime rumbled in warning.  
  
"I know." She sobered. "I deserve it, and I'll carry out the punishment."  
  
Prime noticed Bumblebee's hopeful expression. "No such luck, Bumblebee. Extra work shifts, one more per day, for the next week."  
  
"Yes, Prime."  
  
He fixed his gaze on them one more time until they were all shifting nervously again. "All right. Get out of here," he said gruffly and turned away. He worked at the console for a time, then turned again when he became aware that someone was standing behind him. "I thought I told you to go to your quarters," he said to Tarla.  
  
"I'm sorry, Prime," she said softly. "I let you down, and the others. And Wheeljack, most especially. And I broke the trust you had in me, and for that, I apologize most of all." She turned and walked slowly toward the door.  
  
"Tarla?" he called after her.   
  
She paused, hand resting on the door frame.  
  
"Apology accepted," he said gently. "By me. There are still others who deserve the same consideration."  
  
"I know." She looked up at him. "But if you hadn't accepted, staying here wouldn't be worthwhile any longer. I would have left as soon as my four days were up." She gave him a very slight smile and a wave and was gone.  
  
*  
  
"And I really didn't like her at first." Spike awkwardly tried to help Carli spread the car blanket, but his arm made more of a mess than it helped, and she affectionately shoo-ed him away. The late-night meals on the beach had become a regularity, that Carli first started under the excuse that she was worried that Spike wasn't eating right. A valid excuse, actually -- she once got a look inside the refrigerator in the Ark, and what wasn't turning green was multiplying on its own and threatening to overtake and conquer. Since then, the refrigerator was better stocked, and she had an excuse to see Spike.  
  
She watched him paw through the traditional hamper. At least they were finally past the stage when they had to make excuses to see each other. It had taken them long enough -- she had practically had to hit Spike over the head, but then, they both had come a long ways since then.  
  
"I mean, I didn't even try to accept her," he was saying. "Hey, what happened to the chicken salad?" When she didn't answer, he looked up at her and found her still looking at him. "What is it?"  
  
"Nothing," she said softly. "Just watching you."  
  
He stammered self-consciously, as she knew he would, and she dropped on her knees beside him. "The salad's in the blue plastic container." She found it and held it and a fork out. When he didn't take it, she glanced up, arching one eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
"Nothing," he said with a slight smile. "Just watching you."  
  
She groaned, rolling her eyes. He reached for the salad and caught her wrist instead, pulling her to him. She sat back, leaning against him, and continued to sort through the hamper. He gently brushed her hair back from one shoulder... and balanced the salad container on it.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
"Well... eating with one hand isn't easy. I'll work on your ear after the salad, if you like."  
  
"_Spike!_"  
  
"Now, if you try to hit me, you'll spill the salad. Hold still."  
  
She made a show of grumbling, but settled happily in the crook of Spike's bandaged arm. "Now, what were you talking about? _Before_ the salad and my ears?"   
"Hmm? Oh." Spike set the empty container aside and fished out a sandwich. "I guess I just didn't like the way she was accepted by everyone so quickly. She... I don't know... was into everything. Charmed everyone. But she proved today that she's willing to pull her own weight, and risked her life to do it. If she hadn't thrown the barrel of that grenade launcher in Frenzy's eye, I would have come off a lot worse than a bruised wing. But still, that look of pure terror in her eyes at that fire!"  
  
"That's understandable. Didn't you say she was trapped in a fire once?"  
  
"Yeah. Her school."  
  
"Has she talked to anyone about it?"  
  
"Not that I know of. Unless it was to Prime." He grinned. "They're spending quite a lot of time together."  
  
"Is that good?" she asked tentatively.  
  
He shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't be the first time an Autobot paired up with a human. And they say Prime's actually beginning to take it easy. Until this morning, anyway."  
  
There was a slight pause. "Is she pretty?" Carli asked, suddenly intensely interested in her fingernails.  
  
"Yeah, sort of." Spike tried to pull the picnic basket closer to him.  
  
The only warning he had was Carli's outraged indrawn breath before she whirled around, ready to deck him. He ducked backwards, letting out a howl. "Carli, stop it! Car -- Carli, that's my bad arm!"  
  
"Sorry," she said, sounding unsure if she should sound contrite or flip. "You all right?"  
  
He watched her warily. "Yeah. I swear, I'll never understand women. Answer their questions and they suddenly start beating up on you." He dug out another sandwich. "Besides, she probably can't even cook."  
  
*  
  
Later that night, Spike walked down the corridor to the storage room that served as Tarla's quarters. He grinned in recognition at the sight of the open door. Quarters Confinement meant that you couldn't leave to see people, but said nothing about people coming to see you. And an open door was much more inviting than a closed one.  
  
But he wasn't prepared for the darkness inside the room. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that the dim light came from a candle, and Tarla was sitting in front of it.  
  
She was staring at the flame with such concentration that she didn't realize Spike had entered. Slowly she reached one hand out toward the flame, palm out. As she grew close enough to feel the heat from the tiny flame, she stopped, then obviously forced herself closer. Her outstretched hand trembled, shadows from the flame outlining it. She tried to push it even closer, her hand shaking so hard that Spike was afraid she might knock the candle over.  
  
And she couldn't do it. With a soft strangled sound, she launched herself a good three feet away from the candle and buried her head in her lap.  
  
Spike started to back out, but he misjudged distance and ran into the door frame. Tarla sat up with a start and saw Spike. Her eyes flashed through emotions as she realized he must have been watching. "Hi," she said, not really settling on an emotion at all.  
  
"Hi, yourself." He hefted the box he was carrying. "Brought you some stuff to keep you from getting too bored. There's some books, a CD player and some CDs, in case you get tired of making your own music with that tin pipe of yours --"  
  
Tarla snorted.  
  
"-- and some munchies. We didn't want to pack anything bigger than snacks. You'll want the excuse of fixing food to get out of this room."  
  
"You really are experienced at this."  
  
"Yeah, but Carli's used to packing care packages for me, and she comes to keep me company."  
  
"You seemed to have changed your mind about me."  
  
He shrugged, then winced when the motion shifted his arm. "Yeah, well, it's kinda hard to fight a battle when you can't get along with those on your own side. You may not be my best friend... but you're not my enemy, either."  
  
Neither of them mentioned that they had saved each other's life. Nor did they mention the candle that Tarla was studiously ignoring.  
  
"Is Prime really angry at me?" she asked suddenly.  
  
Spike looked at her in surprise, then decided the question really wasn't so much of a surprise after all. "Prime isn't that easy a character to figure out, but he doesn't automatically dislike someone because they screwed up."  
  
She bit her lip, looking down at her fingers twining around each other. "He usually comes to see me in the evenings."  
  
"But there was a Decepticon attack today. And he also is maintaining the image of the leader dealing out discipline. When the Deceps calm down and your four days are up, things'll be back to normal. At least, as normal as they ever get around here."  
  
The following silence grew to be uncomfortable, so Spike pushed himself away from the case he was leaning against. "It's getting late. Guess I'll see you later -- if you don't die of boredom first."  
  
"Oh, I seem to have folks looking out for me," she answered lightly. "Catch you later."  
  
He looked back from the door, but she had already turned away from him and was staring at the candle flame again. Slowly she reached one hand out toward the flame. The light gleamed off a tooth as she bit her lip, trying to control her shaking hand.  
  
Spike quickly stepped out and keyed the door shut behind him.  
  
*  
  
Prowl looked exhausted. "They led us on an incredible chase, Optimus. They threw Ravage, Lazerbeak, Buzzsaw, and Rumble in our path. If it wasn't for Hound's tracking abilities, we would have lost them several times. The jets even split up so we had several vapor trails to choose from, and of course, they ended up at Decepticon Headquarters."  
  
"But if they had gone elsewhere..."  
  
"I know, Prime. It was a logical order."  
  
Prime signed. "Go and recharge, old friend. And thank you."  
  
"Of course, Prime." And Prowl walked out.  
  
"Jazz, your report?"  
  
"Nothin', Optimus. Not a single scrap of _any_thing. We found what looked like personal logs, but they had been torched by lasers. My guess is that the Deceps took the notes, rather 'n deal w'ith human prisoners. Anythin' from Perceptor?"  
  
"Not yet," Prime started to say, but there were steps outside and Perceptor ran in.  
  
"My greatest apologies for my tardiness, Prime, but my findings were such that should be checked multiple times for confirmation."  
  
"Ne'ermind all them long fancy words," Ironhide grumbled. "Just tell us what was in that hunk o'rock."  
  
There was a slight glint in Perceptor's optics as he visibly considered giving a long complicated speech, simply to annoy Ironhide, but science always came first to the scientist. "Optimus, that meteorite is comprised primarily of jeonide-ten."  
  
"Jeonide-_ten_?" Prime asked incredulously. "And _Megatron_ has it?"  
  
"I don't get it," Jazz said. "We usta use jeonide all th'time back on Cybertron. What's the problem?"  
  
"Ah, but the jeonide we were accustomed to using as a cooler-lubricant was jeonide-_five_. As you know, in strong concentrations, it may also be utilized as an energy source. Jeonide-_ten_, however, is a much denser concentrate of the element. It has such a high radioactive status, that it produces considerably more heat than the coolant jeonide-five. This makes it extremely unstable."  
  
"How come I never heard of this... jeonide-ten b'fore?" Ironhide asked.  
  
"It is an extremely rare element. I myself have only observed two minuscule portions. An amount as vast as that meteorite must contain would be extremely dangerous, if not handled properly, and sometimes even when it is."  
  
"Can it be made into a weapon?" Prime was looking more and more worried. Ironhide knew there was reason, still he began to curse silently at Megatron for throwing Prime's life back into chaos.  
  
"Anything can be constructed into a weapon," Perceptor was saying. "But that is not what is worrying me, Prime. J-ten closely resembles J-five, and because it is so rare, few have ever been fortunately enough to obtain a sample to study, whereas everyone has seen J-five."  
  
"Get t' the point, Perceptor," Ironhide said wearily.  
  
"My fear is that anyone, even scientists, could mistake J-ten for J-five. And if the Decepticons attempt to convert J-ten into the energy they are accustomed to obtaining from J-five, the element will undoubtedly reach stress point and detonate."  
  
"In English, please?" Ironhide growled.  
  
Perceptor sighed in impatience. "It go boom."  
  
Ironhide muttered something under his breath. Perceptor heard him clearly, but didn't understand what intelligent donkeys had to do with anything.  
  
"Just what sorta detonation're we talkin' about here?" Jazz asked.  
  
Perceptor looked slightly embarrassed. "To be entirely truthful, I can only estimate. At the very least, it would completely destroy the underwater Decepticon Headquarters."  
  
"Well, that's what we've been trying t'do all along, ain't it?" Ironhide said triumphantly.  
  
"Yes, but you have failed to take into consideration the repercussions from such an explosion. The results would be seismic quakes, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions -- at that's at the very least. A meteor of J-ten that size and volume might indeed decimate half the Earth."  
  
"By Cybertron," Prime whispered.  
  
"Then let's go get it back!" Ironhide brandished his gun.  
  
"On the contrary," Perceptor said quickly, almost in panic. "Jeonide-ten is _highly_ unstable. The mere vibrations from a battle could set it off, much less a stray missile or laser shot."  
  
"An inside job?" Jazz grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Now _this_ has th'ring of style. Count me in, Optimus."  
  
"Affirmative -- it should be an inside job," Prime agreed. "However, Decepticon sensors will pick up any Autobot readings. We have to figure a way past them."  
  
"Yeah, but we ain't never done that yet. Only prisoners have ever been in Decep HQ," Jazz said.  
  
"Perceptor, how's the adaptation of Tarla's cloaking device coming?"  
  
"I haven't worked on it -- that is Wheeljack's expertise. However, I do know that it has yet to be completed."  
  
Prime turned to Ratchet, who had remained silent throughout the whole conference, but the surgeon foresaw Prime's question and shook his head, holding up a hand in warning. "Don't even ask, Prime. He hasn't even regained consciousness yet, and even if he did, he was hit so badly that he won't even be out of the repairs bay in less than a few weeks, much less back working in his lab."  
  
"And I fear I simply haven't the knowledge to create something of that type," Perceptor said mournfully. "I'm a scientist, yes, but not an engineer."  
  
"So we're in trouble," Jazz said again. "No one has ever bypassed Decep security. The only one who ever got in were prisoners, Autobot or human."  
  
The amazing thing was that Prime could actually tell when the tension in the room changed. No one said a word, yet everyone glanced at each other, read the same thought in everyone's optics, then slowly turned to look at Prime with a mixture of discomfort and pity. For him. Optimus Prime.  
  
And no one said a word.  
  
Jazz finally sighed. "Well, I'm gonna leave this to wiser minds 'n mine. I'm goin' for a recharge. Comin', Ironhide?"  
  
Ironhide started. "What? Oh... yeah. Comin'."  
  
Jazz almost ran for the door, Perceptor after him. Ironhide paused, started to say something, then thought better of it and left, too.  
  
There was a moment of silence, then Ratchet moved form his corner and began to walk a small circuit -- not really pacing, but it was close. The even, measured sound of his footsteps was more than irritating -- it was almost... threatening, especially since Prime knew and was dreading what Ratchet was going to say.  
  
But Ratchet paced more, until Prime couldn't stand it any longer. He suddenly realized how Tarla and Bumblebee must have felt yesterday, as he had waited for them to say for themselves what they had done.  
  
"Don't say it, Ratchet," he finally said softly.  
  
"I don't have to. Prime, you know that it's the only --"  
  
"Ratchet..." Prime rumbled warningly.  
  
"Well, someone's gotta say it, and you just might conveniently overlook it, until --"  
  
"You would even suggest that I would knowingly endanger the Earth?" Prime asked incredulously.  
  
"No," Ratchet said very softly, stopping in front of him. "But you might wait too long, trying to think of another solution, which does not exist, outside of a firefight, and you know that would be more dangerous than anything else we could do. Prime, Tarla is the only one who has a chance of getting past that security."  
  
Prime looked directly at Ratchet. "No," he said flatly. He turned away and unconsciously began to imitate Ratchet's pacing.  
  
"Look, it's obvious from the way you two have been hanging around each other that you care about the girl, but --" Ratchet broke off. Prime had abruptly stopped pacing, his back to Ratchet. His fists were tightly clenched.  
  
Ratchet was silent for a long moment. "I should have see it," he said softly, and with more than a touch of sadness, shaking his head. He walked over to Prime and gripped his arm tightly. "Optimus... are you in love with her?" he asked in a wondering voice.  
  
"I am an Autobot," he said tightly. "She is a human."  
  
"And you know there are such pairings," Ratchet said with growing delight. "There was Powerglide, and Seaspray even knows of that lake that can change him to a human form. He uses that when he visits his girlfriend." He snapped his fingers. "That's it! You can have Seaspray import a drum of that stuff up here!"  
  
"And you want me to send her in among the Deceptacons?" Prime shook his arm free from Ratchet's grasp. "Damn it, Ratchet, she knows nothing of the Deceptacons and even less of warfare. And what is she supposed to do when she gets in? She can't carry it off."  
  
Ratchet had sobered. "There is a chemical that can neutralize the jeonide-ten. If we don't have it, I'm sure Perceptor can whip it up." In all the years he had known Prime, he had never heard him swear.  
  
Prime resumed pacing again, then stopped, his back to Ratchet once more. "Ratchet," he said very softly, "there is a more than ninety percent chance that she'll never make it back alive. I refuse to send _any_ human in against those odds, even if they weren't innocent of the War."  
  
"I think the decision goes beyond that," said a new voice from the doorway. Tarla stepped in, looking nervous. "It's pretty clinched that there's no other option open."  
  
"You're supposed to be in your quarters," Prime said, trying to forestall what he knew was coming next.  
  
She held up a good-sized sandwich. "'Human necessity'," she quoted with a slight smile.  
  
"How long have you been standing there?" he asked.  
  
"Ever since the meeting started." The smile slowly stretched into a grin. "I started out with two sandwiches."  
  
"I see." She had heard everything, then.  
  
"I'm the only one who can get in."  
  
"No."  
  
"Prime --"  
  
"Don't you understand? Didn't you hear? I... I don't want anything to happen to you!" he burst out, then looked away.  
  
"Optimus," she whispered. She slowly walked over to him and leaned against his leg, pressing her cheek against the slightly warm steel. It always surprised her -- the warmth coursing underneath the cool surface of Autobot "skin". She still always expected steel to be cool to the touch.  
"Optimus," she said softly, "a wise leader once said that in a war, sometimes there must be choices between one person and a race of people, a cause, or a world. All three are involved in this situation. One person just can't be seen as more important than those."  
  
"I need to stop spouting words of wisdom," Prime muttered. "They seem to have a habit of coming back to haunt me."  
  
"Optimus..."  
  
Prime was silent for a long moment. "Ratchet," he finally said, "I want you to get Tarla all the information on jeonide-ten that we have. I want her to know everything possible about the whole situation. Get her a file on Decepticon personnel, too. She has to be ready to leave tomorrow afternoon."  
  
"Yes, Prime," Ratchet said. "C'mon, Tarla. Let's see what we can find for you."  
  
She looked up worriedly at Prime, but he continued to stare stoically ahead. She backed away slowly and left, hurrying after Ratchet, who kept talking, desperately trying to alleviate the dismal mood.  
  
Prime finally moved over to Teletran-One. "I want to get a message to Seaspray," he told the computer.  
  
"Acknowledged. Enter message when ready. It will be forwarded to Seaspray during the next naval communications."  
  
Prime tapped the message in, entered it, then cleared the screen. He spent a long time staring at the blank screen, until Bumblebee came in with something else he could focus his attention on.  
  
  
  



	5. Default Chapter Title

WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT  
  
By Kamara  
  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
Chapter Five  
  
"So you think you're ready?" Spike leaned against one of the supply cases that made up Tarla's small room.  
  
She shrugged. "Well, I know everything about jeonide-ten that Teletran-One and Perceptor knew, as well as how to use the neutralizer. If I can just get to the meteorite, I can take care of it."  
  
"Sound pretty sure of yourself."  
  
Tarla paused for a brief second, then continued to fit cushioning into the knapsack.  
  
"Tarla," Spike said softly, "it's all right to be afraid."  
  
"It's a little more than that," she said shakily. "I'm bloody terrified."  
  
"You're not showing it."  
  
She turned around and dropped the act for an instant. There was only one other time when he had seen her more scared, and that was when she had been frozen by memories of being trapped by fire at her school.  
  
"I believe you," he answered.  
  
The act dropped firmly into place again, and she grinned. "Good." She turned back to her packing and carefully fitted the case containing the neutralizer in, then packed more cushioning around it. She zipped up the knapsack and tied the overlaying flap into place.  
  
"No weapons?" Spike asked.  
  
"There's a few grenades in the bottom. I can't use them on the way in, or the explosions might detonate the meteor. They'll probably be wise to me on the way out, so I may need them then. I also have a couple of time bombs, if I have time to place them. As long as I'm there, I might as well do as much damage as I can."  
  
"What's the neutralizer made of?"  
  
"It's a mechanism that'll basically cool the jeonide-ten down by exposing it to a chemical that resembles liquid nitrogen."  
  
"You really do sound like Perceptor," Spike murmured. It prompted another weak smile.  
  
There was a soft tap on the door frame and Prime stepped in. Spike said something about having work to do and disappeared.  
  
Prime gestured awkwardly at the knapsack. "You are prepared, have all you need?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"If there were any other way!" he agonized.  
  
"If there was another way, I certainly wouldn't object to your use of it," she declared, then saw Prime's miserable expression. "Optimus," she said softly, "don't make this harder than it is."  
  
He regarded her for a moment, then gently reached out and stroked her hair with his forefinger, then barely touched her chin. They both looked down at the finger, both knowing how strong it was, that one effortless flick upwards would snap her neck. She read the frustration in his blue optics, the horrid fear that he could hurt her so easily. Quite deliberately, she closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against Prime's hand.  
  
He took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "If I were a human..."  
  
"If I were an Autobot," she replied, smiling at what had been a joke only a few weeks ago. The smile turned wistful.  
  
Prime stepped back. "You'd better get some rest. You'll need it."  
  
"Good night, Optimus," she said quietly. She turned away, before he left, but was fully aware that he stopped at the door and looked back once before leaving. She stared at the knapsack with her cloaking device beside it for a long time, then quickly lit one of her candles and sat in front of it. She stared at the flame for a long time and tried to control her trembling.  
  
*  
  
"Seems like we're restin' a lot on th' simple _hope_ that Megatron'll come after this shipment," Ironhide grumbled.  
  
"Perhaps, but I'm betting that any Decepticon will take the chance on jumping an energon shipment that's going to be as close to their headquarters as this one will be." Prime surveyed the loading of the supply truck. Most of the shipment was the glowing boxes of shimmering energy, but there were regular supply cases also, filled with circuitry and other supplies found in any similar shipments. One such case was set aside, open and empty. The one Tarla would hide in.  
  
"How many you sendin' along for guards?"  
  
"The usual. Brawn, Hound, and Cliffjumper." The supply truck was automated, eliminating the need of a human driver or an extra Autobot casualty.  
  
"Sure ya don't want a coupla more?"  
  
"Positive," Prime said tightly, not looking at his oldest friend. "Any more would raise suspicion."  
  
"Awright, Optimus," Ironhide said in a resigned tone.  
  
"Ironhide?"  
  
The old warrior turned back.  
  
"Thank you," Prime said quickly. "We both appreciate the concern."  
  
Ironhide did a slight doubletake at the "we", then murmured something and left. He passed Tarla on the way in and said something that made her laugh before she headed over. She gave a mock salute and quipped, "Reporting for duty!"  
  
"And your transportation awaits." Prime gestured at the lone supply case. She trotted over and vaulted to perch on the edge of the case. It had been fully padded, with just enough room for her to fit in. "More comfortable than the last trip, at least."  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
She took a deep breath. "Let's get cracking, then." She swung her legs over and lowered herself in.  
  
"You've got your communicator."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"The minute you neutralize the meteor, radio us and I'll --"  
  
"--have the Protectabots there in seconds," she finished for him. "Optimus, you're fussing."  
  
"Be careful," he said, handing her the knapsack. She took it and gave him a thumbs-up. He touched her face briefly, then quickly keyed the case shut. It lurched as he picked it up, but she barely felt it through the packing. She thumbed on the cloaking device.  
  
Outside, Prime stepped back from the truck and looked questioningly at Hound. The scout scanned the truck and looked very satisfied. "No human readings, Prime. It scans just like any normal energy shipment."  
  
"Good." Prime stood silently for a moment. He wouldn't be able to see anything different about that one case -- wouldn't even be able to pick it out, except that he had put it on the truck himself.  
  
"Roll out," he said abruptly, turned, and walked back into the Ark, so he wouldn't have to see the truck with its three bodyguards leave.  
  
*  
  
Cliffjumper, Brawn, and Hound reported in about four hours later, exhausted. Cliffjumper was marred with laser scorches.  
  
"You were right, Prime," Cliffjumper said. "Starscream and the other F15s took the truck. Last we saw of them, they were heading back to Decep headquarters. I guess she's on her own, now, huh?"  
  
Prime took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Affirmative," he said.  
  
*  
Tarla herself was feeling the same helplessness. There had been only two moments when she had had any real feeling of what was going on outside around her -- once during the short firefight when the crates were loaded into the jets, and again, when the crates were being unloaded.  
  
But now that she was in, she wasn't certain how she should proceed. What if she crawled out in front of a Decepticon? Or what if there were cases stacked on top of hers, sealing hers closed? For a moment, she let herself wallow in a quick panic, then made herself calm. First of all, she was on her side, which meant that the lid of the case wouldn't have another case on top of it. As for the Decepticons, she wouldn't be able to tell what she might be facing until she faced it. And she couldn't do that from inside the case. The cloaking device would cover her human readings while she was next to the rest of the energon; that should give her enough time to catch her bearings.  
  
She keyed the panel and the case slid open noiselessly. She peeked out, saw nothing, and crawled out, dragging the knapsack behind her. She stood up, clinging close to the disorderly pile of supply cases and energon cubes, and peered around the edge into the main part of the room.  
  
And nearly dropped the knapsack.  
  
The room was almost a mirror image of the control room back in the Ark.  
  
There was only one difference.  
  
Unfortunately, it was one hell of a difference.  
  
The room was filled with Decepticons.  
  
She caught the knapsack just before it hit the floor and shrank back into the shadows. But not before she saw the meteor glowing in a clear case in the center of the room.  
  
Glowing? That meant that the jeonide-ten was near crisis. All she had to do was get through the Decepticons to the meteor. That was all. Nothing to it...  
  
_Yeah. Right._  
  
"Something's not right," Starscream was insisting, as if this was part of an argument that had been going on for some time. "The readings are much higher than they should be, and I have never seen jeonide glow like this."  
  
"Don't be a fool, Starscream," Megatron snapped. "Anyone can see that this is jeonide, and all producers have been followed correctly. Haven't they?"  
  
"Of -- of course, mighty Megatron," Starscream stammered. "I myself handled jeonide back on Cybertron regularly. Perhaps there is another compound that was fused within the jeonide while it was in space. More tests should be run."  
  
"Afraid, Starscream?" Megatron taunted, enjoying the role-reversal. Usually it was Starscream who tended to rush into things and scorn his leader for his caution. But Megatron knew what he was doing, and it gave him a sense of pleasure to bait the mechanism who so openly wanted to dethrone him.  
  
Starscream recognized Megatron's tone, but simply frowned instead of screaming insults back. "Perhaps," he said thoughtfully. "The radiation levels are simply too high."  
  
"Then by all means, run your tests," Megatron purred. Starscream's frown turned into an open scowl, and he moved aside to the larger computer screen.  
  
Silently, Tarla slipped the neutralizer out of the knapsack. She didn't notice Soundwave suddenly cock his head and look around in puzzlement. Instead, she carefully shouldered the pack again. She waited until Starscream had moved a little further away and made a run for it.  
  
"HUMAN INTRUDER!" Soundwave burst out.  
  
"Stop her!" Megatron shouted, raising his shoulder cannon.  
  
"Don't shoot near the meteor!" Starscream shrieked.  
  
Soundwave hit one of the buttons on his shoulder and the casette holder on his chest opened. "Rumble, Frenzy -- eject. Operation -- capture."  
  
Tarla ducked around a leg. All she had to do was clip the neutralizer to the side of the case. It would do the rest. She hadn't even thought about how she was going to get out.  
  
A massive weight hit her, and she landed hard on the metal floor. A tooth went through her lip, and the neutralizer skittered across the floor. Rumble stepped on it. There was a small flare of light and a brief explosion., Rumble cursed and fell against the table holding the meteor. The case fell and bounced once, landing on its side.  
  
Frenzy pulled Tarla to her feet, his red optics narrowing. "Hey, I know you --"  
  
She frantically tried to pull away. "The meteor!"  
  
Starscream automatically glanced at it and began backing away. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"It's jeonide-_ten_," she screamed as Frenzy's grip tightened.  
  
"_Ten_?" Starscream screeched, and Megatron cursed, each backing away from the case. Frenzy lifted a fist, but Starscream caught the smaller Decepticon's arm. "No, wait. You, human! Can you stop it from detonating?"  
  
Tarla jerked her arm free, not from her own strength, but because Frenzy had released her. She automatically chaffed her wrist. "I'm not sure. That would have," and she pointed at the remains of the neutralizer.  
  
"Stupid fool!" Starscream hit Rumble with enough force to send him flying.  
  
"Never mind that," Megatron snapped. "How long until detonation?"  
  
"Four minutes, ten seconds," Soundwave said as tonelessly as he would have announced the weather.  
  
"Then it's every mechanism for himself!" Starscream announced and would have launched himself for the door, had Megatron not caught him and jerked him back. "You'd never get out in time."  
  
"Have you any liquid nitrogen?" Tarla asked suddenly. "It's not a neutralizer, but it might --"  
  
"-- stabilize," Starscream finished. He gave he an appreciative look, then remembered he was talking to a human and scowled again. "Liquid nitrogen," he ordered. "All you can find."  
  
Decepticons ran everywhere.  
  
'How are we going to get it in there?" Tarla asked, running over to the case. "We can't let too many elements from this air get in to it."  
  
"Pressurized canisters." Starscream knelt beside her. "We'll cut a hole equal to a section of tubing, then fit the tubing to the canisters. The amount of air that will get in shouldn't matter."  
  
"Two minutes, forty-five seconds."  
  
"It'll have to be precision cutting," Tarla said.  
  
"Lazerbeak!" Megatron held up his arm and the robot vulture glided to it. "Do what they say."  
  
Lazerbeak looked carefully at the tubing, then focused on the case. His optics gleamed, then shot forth twin laser beams. The beams pierced the case and curved around in a circle. Starscream fitted a length of tubing to the canister of liquid nitro that Thundercracker handed him, then held it up to the engraved circle. With a quick thrust, he pushed the tubing against the circle, then through, as the small pane of glass fell in and shattered against the meteor. It was a perfect fit.  
  
"One minute, thirty seconds."  
  
"Ready?" Tarla asked. Starscream nodded, and she switched on the liquid nitro. The white spray gushed through the tubing and began to coat the huge meteor.  
  
"One minute."  
  
"Is it going to be enough?" Tarla looked up at Starscream.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Thirty seconds." Soundwave paused a moment. "Radioactivity declining. Reaching stability status."  
  
"We must continue to bathe the meteor with the nitrogen," Starscream said. "Until we can build another neutralizer, this will be the only thing that will prevent another build-up."  
  
The main crisis over, Tarla simply leaned against the case, absently watching the foam shifting and the dying glow of the jeonide-ten. It took a few long minutes for the silence around her to sink in. In fact, it didn't really sink in until she looked up and saw the roomful of Decepticons staring down at her.  
  
"Who are you?" Megatron asked in a voice that was almost pleasant.  
  
"Tarla," she said, automatically holding out her hand. Megatron looked down at it even more speculatively, and she withdrew it, coloring slightly.  
  
"Wait a minute, Megatron," Frenzy shouted. "She was wi'the Autobots th'other day. She's one a' them!"  
  
Guns seemed to appear from everywhere, and she stumbled backwards into Starscream's leg. She looked up and, surprisingly, his expression was more amused and curious than hostile.  
  
Frenzy pushed her hard against the overturned table. "Lemme kill her, Megatron. I owe her one, fer brusin' my optics th'other day."  
  
"A moment, please, almighty leader," Starscream purred. "Although my knowledge is vast, it is limited in the area of jeonide-ten. This human could come in useful in constructing a new neutralizer, especially as she has already had experience in building the previous one."  
  
Megatron studied Starscream, obviously wondering what other motives the jet-scientist might have in mind. A human, especially one affiliated with Autobots, and under Starscream's observation, was really the last thing he wanted running around loose in his headquarters.  
  
He turned the same gaze on Tarla. "What do you know about this neutralizer?"  
  
Tarla shot a wary glance at Frenzy. The smaller Decepticon had backed away at Megatron's intervention, but it was more than clear he was eager to jump back in if any of his superiors encouraged it. She rubbed the back of her head, gingerly fingering the swelling where she had hit the table, slowly backing up once again to the dubious safety of Starscream's leg. "I... uh... I helped build that one. I know everything about J-ten that Perceptor knows."  
Then you admit you are leagued with the Autobots?" Megatron pressed.  
  
"We had no way of knowing what kind of detonation a meteor that size could give off. It could have taken half the Earth, Perceptor said. Doesn't our survival take precedence over who we're leagued with?"  
  
Starscream smirked. "She speaks prettily, does she not, Megatron? Her tongue is as golden as a Decepticon elite's."  
  
"Or an Autobot diplomat," Megatron said tightly. More often than not, Starscream's jibes were amusing. This was not one of those times. "Very well. She is right about one thing. This meteor is more deadly than our differences with the Autobots. She's yours, Starscream, until the neutralizer is completed. But you watch her carefully. I'm holding you responsible. Anything goes wrong, and I'll have your head."  
  
"But Megatron --" Frenzy began to protest.  
  
His leader held up his hand, still enjoying Starscream's sullen expression. "I said, until after the neutralizer is completed." Megatron smiled. "After that, she's ours to play with. It will be interesting to see what Prime will do to get one of his pet humans back."  
  
If the girl had not been frightened before, the look she gave Megatron surely proved she was now. The bloody and bruising lip was vividly dark against her suddenly pale face.  
  
As soon as she saw the pleasure register on his own face, Tarla looked away. "You are wrong, Megatron," she said softly. "I would rather die myself then let any harm come to any of the Autobots because of me. And Optimus knows that."  
  
"Pretty words, indeed," Megatron said. "But we shall see if you hold up to those words while Frenzy has his fun. Take her, Starscream. And heed my warning."  
  
"Of course, mighty Megatron." Starscream gave a slight bow, then turned imperiously. "Rumble! You bring the girl to my laboratory." He looked down at Frenzy with scorn. "And see to it that she gets there without any further damage."  
  
"You got it, Starscream." The small Decepticon edged around Frenzy in an effort to avoid his brother's anger.  
  
Megatron watched them leave, wondering uneasily if he had made a wise decision. He beckoned Soundwave over to him. "Keep an eye on them," he said softly.  
  
"As you command." Soundwave ejected Ravage, and the robotic puma snarled once, then gracefully leaped out the door and disappeared down the corridor.  
  
"This was not what I had planned, Soundwave." But he looked at the meteor and Thundercracker and Skywarp who were fluttering around it with canisters of liquid nitrogen. "Then again, it could have been worse." He recalled the look of terror on the human's face at the thought of her death. "Yes," he said, savoring the words. "Much worse."  
  
But Megatron never took one thing into consideration, simply because it was completely against his programming. It was something that had never even occurred to him. Tarla might have been afraid for herself, and that was understandable.  
  
But she was terrified for Optimus Prime.  
  
And that was something Megatron could not even begin to understand.  
  



	6. Default Chapter Title

WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT  
  
by Kamara  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
Chapter Six  
  
  
Bumblebee signed off-duty, transformed into his VW mode, and zipped down the corridors and into the main communications room. He transformed back into robot mode on the run and skidded to a stop next to Prime's chair, using the console in front of Teletran-One as a brake. "You hear from Tarla yet?"  
  
Prime shook his head silently.  
  
"Oh." Bumblebee visibly deflated, his face creased with worry. "But shouldn't we have gotten her signal by now?"  
  
Prime nodded.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Ironhide walked in. "H'lo Bumblebee, Optimus. Tarla on her way back yet?"  
  
"No," Bumblebee said softly.  
  
"She hasn't radioed in yet." Prime continued to stare at the screen.  
  
"Well, let's got in there and get 'er back ourselves!"  
  
"Negative. We have no way of knowing the status of the meteor. We cannot take the risk of a fire fight detonating it."  
  
Spike and Perceptor stepped in from opposite directions. "Has Tarla --" they both started, then looked at each other and grinned. "I guess we are both concerned about Tarla," Perceptor said.  
  
"Ain't we all?" Ironhide stomped around the room. "We ain't heard a peep from her." He stopped, staring accusingly at Perceptor. "Hey, you ain't got some kinda fancy gadget that c'n sniff out and tell whether 'r not that hunk a' rock's gonna blow up?"  
  
"I don't believe so," Perceptor said. "And even if I did, we would be unable to get close enough to the Decepticon headquarters for a proper reading.  
  
Prime buried his head in his hands as Jazz popped his head through the door.  
  
"Jus' thought I'd stop by 'n see if th'girl has --"  
  
"_NO!_" they shouted, but Prime's voice was so filled with agony that Jazz forgot to be miffed, and they all stared at their leader.  
  
He couldn't stand it.  
  
He stood up and pushed past them with their sympathetic, concerned looks of _pity_, and strode out the door. He didn't stop until he reached the medical bay, and hesitated only until he saw that Wheeljack, the only patient, was still temporarily deactivated to conserve energy while his internal functions stabilized. Ratchet glanced up, then stood as Prime came in.   
  
"What have I done, Ratchet?"  
  
Ratchet winced, then slowly reached out to grip Prime's arm. "What had to be done, Optimus. The only thing you could do."  
  
"And I have to live with that. That I sent her to be killed."  
  
"You don't know she's de--"  
  
"We all knew when I sent her that everything was against her survival."  
  
Ratchet sighed. "Yeah. We _all_ have to live with that. That for all our technology and oaths to protect human lives, we couldn't do a thing in this situation to protect this one human."  
  
To hear all his bitterness and frustration spoken by another took the anger out of Prime and left only the hurt and grief. Ratchet avoided his gaze, and Prime turned for the door.  
  
"There's something else, Optimus," Ratchet said. "We still have that meteor to deal with."  
  
*  
  
Actually, Starscream mused as he walked down the corridors, having an assistant-slave definitely had its advantages, even a human one. He had to admit that the girl knew what she was doing, and although Starscream was a warrior, there had been a time when he had been a scientist, and he had a respect for others in his second field, even for an Autobot, although there the respect was much more grudging.  
  
At the very least, she was someone to talk to, and someone would continue to work when he wanted an extra energon-break or two. He wasn't worried about her trying to sabotage the neutralizer; she was more concerned about this planet than he would ever be, unless his own life and purposes were directly concerned.  
  
But her attitude was strange. She didn't cower in fear, or, like other Autobot-leagued humans, hide her fear behind belligerence and holier-than-thou speeches. But this girl -- Tarla -- was meshing in almost as if she had joined the Decepticons, instead of having been captured from the opposite side. She did well in avoiding those who would have been more than willing to help another Autobot human disappear, and she actually seemed to be making friends. It was unnatural, but it seemed to be against her nature to hate. It was fascinating.  
  
He stopped at the doorway and smiled. The girl was sitting at a make-shift desk staring at a sheets of paper covered with scrawled equations and sketches. "Well, that's it," she said softly. "Optimus, your meteor is taken care of. Now what happens to me?" She rubbed her forehead wearily, and Starscream smiled again. This was more of what he expected.  
  
Tarla slowly stretched, rolling her neck and massaging her upper arms to work the kinks out. She looked over her desk at Ravage, curled up in the corner. His red eyes were really all she could see. The eyes never left her.  
  
Ravage was the spy, the one who didn't trust and was rarely trusted. The girl was an enigma, as puzzling to him as she was to Starscream, as she was to most of them and, although Ravage couldn't know it, as she had been to the Autobots.  
  
The staring contest lasted for a few seconds longer, then Tarla sighed. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty," she said softly. "You don't like me, do you?"  
  
Ravage considered that. "Like" had very little to do with it. She was with the Autobots. Although she personally hadn't threatened him, she was an Autobot. There was no changing that.   
  
Tarla saw the movement when Ravage cocked his head in thought. "No, it isn't the concept of 'like', is it? It's programming. You've been ordered to guard me, and the only way you know how to do that is by snarling and all that stuff." She studied him for a moment longer, then slowly stood and walked towards him. Ravage lifted his head and snarled softly. She stopped and sat down on the floor a few yards from him. She leaned back and hooked her knapsack with her fingers and pulled it to her, not taking her eyes off Ravage. Rumble had gone through the knapsack and confiscated the weapons and communicator, but Starscream had allowed her to keep the notes and few other odds-n-ends she had in there. She dug through one of the pockets and came up with a tennis ball that had been in there since the last day of school. After all, she had never _planned_ to stay with the Autobots for more than a couple of days, much less live with them, get involved in a war for them, go on a mission, fall in lo--  
  
She stopped thinking of that. Thinking of Prime brought on a mass of confusion -- fear, concern, caring, warmth, and more than she could possibly try to comprehend, especially here in Decepticon headquarters, with the threat of her life hovering above her.  
  
Ravage was staring at the tennis ball with suspicion. He snarled again.  
  
"It's not a bomb or any kind of weapon," Tarla explained, keeping her voice low. She rolled the ball from one hand to another. Ravage's eyes followed it. "Tennis was one of the few school sports I liked. I always carried one or two balls with me, just to bounce off a wall when I was bored or something." She stopped rolling the ball, held it off the ground a foot or so and dropped it, catching it on the bounce and repeating the action. After some of this, she held it for a moment, then rolled it to Ravage. He automatically put out a steel paw to keep the ball from rolling into him, and in doing so, deflected it back to her. She flicked it with her hand, sending it back to him. This time, he stopped it by clapping his paw down on top of it, then reached out to sniff it gingerly.  
  
She slowly stood and walked back to her desk, knowing Ravage had raised his head and was watching her again, this time thoughtfully.  
  
Starscream wasn't sure what he had just witnessed, but it seemed over for the moment, and he stepped inside the lab. Tarla jumped at the sound of his footsteps, but relaxed when she saw it was him. The first few days around the Autobots, she had jumped every time one of them had walked in. The loud footsteps always startled anyone new. But it quickly became a normal sound, so normal that it was easy for a human to sneak up on a human who was used to being around Transformers, simply because they were so quiet in comparison. Tarla was used to Autobot footsteps. But whereas it was a safe and comforting sound in the Ark, the same sound was terrifying on Decepticon turf, because she never knew who it would be. And so she jumped at footsteps again.  
  
"Hullo," she said and sat on the corner of her desk. "I'm done with the notes. You should be able to put the finishing touches on the neutralizer and put it into action by this evening."  
  
"Let me see." Starscream took the sheaf of papers and went to his own desk, adjusting his optics to read her tiny handwriting. "I see," he said after a minute. "It definitely should work. Good. That will at least get Megatron off my back for a while."  
  
Tarla thought again to herself that there were really two personalities in Starscream, and she wondered if anyone else had ever noticed it. When Starscream had been talking to her about the neutralizer or whatever else he happened to be thinking about scientifically, or even when they were simply passing a break together -- Starscream had realized that his human assistant would produce better work if she had rest, especially after she had nearly dropped enough of an explosive chemical to take out the entire lab -- when he talked about such things, the "scream" went out of his voice, he relaxed, and she was able to see the scientist Starscream had been before he had been a warrior, before his lust to lead had taken over. But when he mentioned Megatron's name, his voice immediately rose in pitch, he started to pace restlessly, fists clenched, and his optics burned an even harsher shade of red. He was pure Decepticon then.  
  
"But this is good," Starscream said, his voice lowering again. It unsettling, the way he switched from one personality to another between sentences, sometimes even between words. He looked at her. "Not bad at all, for a human."  
  
Tarla grinned. "Ah, we humans get along." It had become a joke over the last two days of near-constant working together. It had taken them longer to build the neutralizer than it had Perceptor. Tarla was trying to remember all she had been told and read, and Starscream trying to make sense of what she could remember and filling in the blanks.  
  
"If only you were a Decepticon," Starscream mused. He moved to his work bench, and therefore didn't see Tarla's face suddenly go pale, as if what he had said had struck a familiar chord with her. Instead, he bent over his work, leaning over from time to time to check her notes. She watched him until he looked up again. "You're quiet. Usually you're chattering away until you drive me nearly insane."  
  
"So what happens to me now, Starscream?" she asked quietly.  
  
He started to wave off an answer, then really looked at her. For some reason, the fear in her voice and expression wasn't as satisfying as he had expected it to be. Instead, he was finding it hard to meet her steady gaze. He pushed the chair back from the work bench. "Normally... I think you know. Megatron would hand you to Frenzy as soon as you've carried out your usefulness. Or he might try to see what he can get from Prime as a ransom, and maybe you'd be given back." He studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "You're a human, and an Autobot ally. That's two of the worse counts against you, in Decepticon views. If it was just the first count, you being human, I'd try to get you kept on as my assistant. Even if you were anti-Decep, you could hide that and keep yourself alive. You're intelligent and hard-working, and you'd come in handy. Not many other Decepticons are as intelligent in science as you are, much less myself --" and for once, he didn't say that with arrogant conceit, but with quiet honesty. "-- and you're rather good company, as much as I never thought I'd say that about a human. But you're openly with the Autobots, and the vast majority of Decepticon troops with _never_ trust you. And Megatron doesn't trust me, whereas Frenzy is one of his most loyal. It would be normal procedure for Megatron to reward him with you."  
  
Tarla's expression hadn't changed. Starscream sighed again. "Your only hope is an Autobot ransom. How much would Prime give to get you back?"  
  
Again, she reacted as if she'd been hit, and this time, Starscream noticed. "There will be no ransom," she said, either emotionlessly or with quiet determination. Starscream didn't know enough about human emotions to tell the difference.  
  
"What, has the great Optimus Prime changed his Autobot principle? Does he not care enough to save you?" he joked, trying to get more information.  
  
She shook her head. "The problem, Starscream, is that he cares too much. I'm afraid of what he _will_ do for a ransom."  
  
"That's the problem with you Autobots. You worry about each other more than you worry about yourselves."  
  
"Yes, but because of that, we can count on each other to come through when we need it."  
  
"Like now?" he challenged.  
  
Her face flushed, but her chin came up defiantly. "That's not it," she insisted. "Optimus _lives_ by that principle of protecting innocent lives. I'm involved in this war now, and somehow, I just can't consider myself in the 'innocent lives' category anymore. Not after all this," She gestured broadly at the neutralizer, lab, and, Starscream understood, the Decepticon headquarters and the War in general.  
  
"But Optimus _will_," she continued. "He'll blame himself when there was no other choice but to send me. He'd give himself to Megatron to free me, and I'll hand myself over to Frenzy before I'll allow anything to happen to Optimus because of me."  
  
She stopped to catch her breath and realized Starscream was staring at her in surprise.  
  
"You've enough spirit for a Decepticon," he admitted slowly. "We could try to convince Megatron that you've seen our ways are better --"  
  
"But I haven't."  
  
"If it wasn't for your bloody _caring_, you'd be able to get yourself out of here instead of facing death the way you are now!" he exclaimed in exasperation.  
  
"And if it wasn't for that caring, there wouldn't even be the hope of ransom, which would be the _only_ way of getting me out of here!" she snapped, then quieted. "Look, Starscream, who can you really trust on your side? Who are your close friends? Or do you spend every day under the threat of death yourself? I've heard the others: 'Starscream the traitor, the usurper'. There are problems with each side's values and views, and we can argue until we're blue in the face, and we'll never convince each other that our own way is the best."  
  
"Humans' faces turn blue?"  
  
She stared at him, then started to giggle. The giggles gave way to full-scale laughter, and Starscream was chuckling also when Rumble walked in.  
  
The whole situation was puzzling to the smaller Decepticon. Prisoners shouldn't be laughing. They should be afraid, instead of joking so much that they never even notice his entrance. He coughed, and Starscream and the human glanced at each other and gradually stopped laughing. "What is it?" Starscream asked.  
  
"Megatron wants t'know when that neutra-whatchamacallit's gonna be ready."  
  
Starscream looked thoughtfully at the pile of parts on his workbench and scanned the page of notes. "Two hours," he decided.  
  
Tarla choked back her last chuckle. "Four."  
  
"You dare to tell me my job?" It was still part of the joke.  
  
"I wrote all the bloody notes," she retorted. "I also built one."  
  
They glared at each other for a moment, then both turned to Rumble and said "Three hours" at the same time. They started laughing again.  
  
Rumble shook his head, half in disgust, half in amazement. This was definitely not natural.  
  
*  
  
Natural or not, two hours and forty-five minutes later, the neutralizer was finished and was engaged during the next fifteen minutes. The meteor's glow diminished as it iced over, reducing the radioactive jeonide-ten to a hunk of frozen stone. Megatron ordered Astrotrain -- the triple-changer spaceshuttle-locomotive -- to get rid of it, and everyone took a collective deep breath of relief once the meteor was out of the complex and on its way back into deep space.  
  
"Now that that is taken care of," Megatron said after Astrotrain had flown out of optic sensor range, "we can get back to normal around here." He turned on his heel and nearly tripped over Tarla. She squeaked and scurried back into Starscream's protective aura.  
  
Megatron hadn't quite forgotten she was around. It was just that she hadn't been brought to his attention since the day the meteor had nearly detonated. Things like that, he was fully aware of, but tended to overlook in lieu of more pressing matters. Having a huge ball of something that could explode and take half the Earth with it sitting in one's control room, for example.  
  
But things were calmer now. He sat down in his command chair and lounged back, fixing his famous studious how-can-this-situation-benefit-and-or-amuse-me look on the girl.  
  
"Starscream, was she of use to you? I heard of no problems," he finally asked.  
  
"She was very helpful, mighty Megatron," Starscream said in as close to a respectful tone as he could manage towards Megatron. "It was convenient to have another scientist to assist me. The Decepticon troops are mostly warriors, and the shortage of capable scientific help is felt under any project."  
  
"Even Autobot help? She could not be trusted. Unless..." Megatron turned thoughtful. "An Autobot keeps an oath. Would you swear Decepticon loyalty, girl?"  
  
"Wait a minute, Megatron!" Frenzy stepped out of his corner, and Tarla decided that _behind_ Starscream was probably quite a bit safer. "You promised her to me. Whaddaya mean, trust? She's an Autobot, and no Autobot ever switched ranks. Lemme kill her!"  
  
"She's already proved she's no warrior, Frenzy. And that damnable honor that runs deep in Autobot circuitry would keep her with us, if oath was sworn." He turned to Tarla again. "Would you swear this?"  
  
"What would I be swearing to?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
"To swear allegiance to the Decepticon ways, to obey myself as your supreme leader in all orders, to the glory of Cybertron under Decepticon rule, and to the spread of that rule throughout the universe."  
  
Her chin came up defiantly. "I will do nothing that will harm the Autobots."  
  
"What about an impartial oath?" Starscream suggested. "Like medics take. After all, it is her knowledge we need, not her fighting abilities."  
  
"An oath taken in part is an oath that can be broken with more ease." Megatron shot him a look. "You want this too much, Starscream. Why?"  
  
"To make my job easier. Maybe then I wouldn't make errors, such as mistaking jeonide-ten for five."  
  
"Don't do it, Megatron," Frenzy warned. "I'm more loyal to you than Screamer is."  
  
"That you are, Frenzy, but we do suffer from a deficiency of scientists." Megatron frowned. "I will have to think on this. You are all dismissed."  
  
Frenzy started to protest further, but his brother caught his shoulder and pulled him out of the room. Starscream herded Tarla out in much the same way. "You really do have a death wish, don't you?" he snapped.  
  
"I won't fight my friends!"  
  
"But you could have held off for more time," he hissed. "Ravage, take her back to the lab. I'm going out."  
  
Ravage nodded, and Tarla followed him as Starscream stalked away.  
  
She was exhausted, she realized when she stepped into the lab. She had had only snatches of sleep, just enough to keep her going, but now it snuck up behind her and smacked her between the ears -- oh, yeah... I'm tired... She stumbled over to the rumpled cloths that served as her bed and fell on them. Ravage snorted disdain at her human weakness and left. The door slid shut behind him, and she knew that he had curled himself up outside, guarding.  
  
It suddenly occurred to her that she was alone for the first time since being captured. She managed to pull back the blanket-cloth and looked around. There weren't even any monitors installed.  
  
She lay for a long moment, deliberating. Finally, before she could change her mind, she kicked back the cloths and scrambled to her desk. She found the small pocket stereo-recorder Starscream had allowed her to keep, as long as she played it with the headphones on. She flew around the room, rummaging through the lab until she found enough parts to construct a crude transmitter. She had debated simply turning on the communication system, but she had seen how sharply Soundwave monitored the system.  
  
Her fear that someone would walk in made her finish the job even faster than she ever would have believed possible. She hurriedly switched it on, not bothering to search for a specific channel, since Teletran-One had been programmed to pick up her voice. She took a deep breath and plunged. "Tarla to Autobot headquarters," she said into the small mike hurriedly. She had to repeat it only once again before Bumblebee answered, trying to talk to her and holler for Prime at the same time.  
  
Her throat suddenly swelled with tears at the sound of his voice, and she pushed the emotion ruthlessly aside. "Listen to me, Bee! I don't know how much time I have," she started to say, but she heard someone run in behind Bumblebee, and suddenly Prime was there demanding if she was all right.  
  
At the sound of his voice, Tarla finally broke down. "Optimus," she said, her voice wavering. "The meteor's gone. I did it, Optim--"  
  
The door to the lab burst open and Frenzy dove in, hitting her hard enough to send her flying against and rebound from the wall. She heard Prime shouting her name, thin and tinny sounding in the tiny speakers, before Frenzy crumpled the makeshift radio in his hand. "And you were thinkin' 'bout makin' her one a' us?" he challenged Megatron.  
  
"Get Starscream back here," Megatron ordered tightly, and Skywarp and Thundercracker ran out. "You dare try to cross us?" he roared at Tarla.  
  
She didn't try to stand up, or even look at him. "I was only trying to tell him of the meteor, so he wouldn't send anyone else in here. So no one else would get hurt or killed because of me." The fatigue rushed back in dizzying waves.  
  
Frenzy started towards her in triumph, but Megatron stopped him. "Bring her to the control room," he said. "She still has one more use for us. Rumble, you do it. Frenzy has too much of a personal interest in this."  
  
"Whatever you say, Megatron." Rumble pulled Tarla to her feet roughly, but whereas Frenzy would have enjoyed pulling her arm out of her socket, she didn't try to pull away. She doubted she even had the strength to try.  
  
"Raise Prime on the Autobot frequency," Megatron ordered. "I'm sure he's waiting and will be overjoyed to hear from us." He swept into the control room as Soundwave bowed slightly.   
  
"As you command, Megatron," he said and went over to his communications board. Megatron sat in his chair and accepted the small cube of energon Frenzy brought him. He sipped at it luxuriously until Soundwave stepped back. The screen snapped on, and Optimus Prime filled in with all his towering rage.  
  
"Megatron..." he began in a low rumble.  
  
The Decepticon leader cut him off. "Prime, one of your faults is that you talk too much. This time, it's my turn. I believe I have something of yours."  
  
"If you've harmed her --"  
  
"Relax, Optimus. She's not injured beyond repair." Megatron beckoned, and Rumble pushed Tarla into the center of the room.  
  
She heard Prime's in-drawn breath and saw her reflection in the screen before she could really focus on Prime -- saw herself as Prime was seeing her; tousled hair hiding eyes black with exhaustion, lip still swollen and bruised where her tooth had gone through it a few days ago. But worse was the general slump in her body that went past fatigue towards defeat.  
  
She barely recognized herself.  
  
And she saw the pain and self-condemnation Prime was feeling and it hurt her more than the physical pain did.  
  
"Guess I blew it, Optimus," she said.  
  
"We both did," he answered softly.  
  
"Touching," Megatron sneered. "I always thought your emotions were more human than natural.  
  
That seemed to hit a raw circuit with Prime, and Megatron made a mental note of it for future use.  
  
"What do you want, Megatron?" Prime asked, his voice low with anger.  
  
That was just what Megatron had been waiting to hear. He sat back and sipped the energon. "I want enough energon to get the Decepticons back to Cybertron," he said finally. "And I want you, Prime."  
  
"No!" Tarla shrieked.  
  
"Shut up!" Frenzy snarled, raising his fist.  
  
"You touch her, Frenzy, and I'll search this planet until I find you, and then I'll dismember you personally!" Prime roared.  
  
Everyone -- Decepticon, Autobot, and human alike -- stared. Megatron looked incredulously at Tarla, wondering what in a mere human could draw such rage from Optimus Prime. Frenzy slowly lowered his fist and stepped away.  
  
"Optimus, if he has the energon, he'll have Cybertron," Tarla said in a rush, ducking the expected blow. It didn't come -- Frenzy wasn't about to challenge Prime. Prime kept his promises. "Optimus," she said, "one person against a race, a cause, and a world."  
  
Prime looked away. Only Tarla and Megatron saw his fists twitch. Megatron's mouth curved into a smile. "I can see the decision is a difficult one. I will contact you in twenty-four hours. Enjoy your day, Optimus. I know I shall." He reached over and switched off the communications himself.  
  
Starscream walked in at that moment, and Megatron flung the empty energon container at him.  
  
Starscream ducked with the ease of one who has had extensive practice at dodging flung objects. "What'd I do?" he shrieked.  
  
"You disgust me," Megaton snapped. "I told you I'd hold you responsible if your pet human did anything. Get her out of my sight, and yourself as well."  
  
Rumble helped Tarla along with a push, and Starscream swept her up in his hand and sullenly went out. He didn't say anything until they were back in the lab and he had set her down again. "Just what _did_ you do?"  
  
The tears finally hit her hard. "I just -- just called home," she quavered. "I didn't want Optimus to worry about the meteor any longer." She sobbed. "I just want to go home, back before the fire and the War. I just want to go home."  
  
"Ahhh..." Starscream stalked over to his workbench. Tears were what he had wanted to see form her in the first place, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to take the pleasure in them that he thought he would.  
  



	7. Default Chapter Title

WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT  
  
by Kamara  
stealthbunny@msn.com  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
The crash echoed down the corridor. Megatron looked up sharply at Soundwave. "What was that?"  
  
"Sound unknown. Location -- Starscream's laboratory."  
  
"Somehow, that does not surprise me," Megatron muttered. "Have Lazerbeak come with us." He strode out the door. Soundwave ejected the cassette vulture and followed his leader.  
  
They heard the laughter before they stepped through the doorway. Ravage was crouched in a corner, his eyes fixed on Tarla, who was crawling underneath and over-turned desk -- explanation of the noise. She came up, covered with a layer of dust. "Doesn't anyone ever clean around here?" she asked. Ravage leapt forward and knocked the ball from her hand. "Don't you dare make me crawl after it again, Ravage," she shouted. Ravage dropped the ball and batted it with his paw. Tarla dove for it, but Ravage shouldered her out of the way and batted it out of her reach, much to the enjoyment of Starscream and Thundercracker.  
  
Megatron stared. "My warriors are playing with a human," he said. "My _warriors_ are _playing_ with a _human_." He threw up his hands in disgust and stalked out, snapping over his shoulder, "Thundercracker, you watch her for a while. Starscream, come. We have work to do."  
  
"Go ahead, Screamer," Thundercracker said. "_I'll_ make sure the kid doesn't get in any trouble."  
  
Starscream sneered, both at the hated nickname and at the insinuation. After all, it wasn't as if the girl had actually done any harm. She had probably saved them the trouble of more Autobot intrusions, by telling Prime that the trouble with the meteor was over.   
*  
  
They didn't get back until later that afternoon, singed from battle, but with another load of energon. Tarla was sleeping when Starscream came in, but the sound of his footsteps woke her.  
  
"Successful raid?" Thundercracker asked.  
  
"Yes. They need help unloading. See to it." He yawned. "I'm ready for a recharge." He noticed Tarla was awake and tossed her a small package. "I found this for you," he said.  
  
She unwrapped it and stared at the magnificent flute inside. Touched that he would think of such a thing, that he would even remember something she had mentioned in passing, she lifted it to her lips and blew experimentally. The tone was one of the best she had ever heard. "Where did you get this?"  
  
"Picked it up this afternoon," he said and left for the recharging units. Ravage lifted his head, back on alert.  
  
But Tarla was staring at the flute in horror now. For Starscream to have found the flute this afternoon meant that it would have been during the energon raid. There was no engraving of a military band in the silver, which meant that it had to have been a civilian's instrument.  
  
She wondered which town had been attacked.  
  
And what had happened to the flute's original owner.  
  
An hour later, she was still battling the longing to play the flute with the loathing of the blood such a gift had cost someone, when Ramjet came in to say that Optimus Prime had agreed to the trade.  
  
*  
  
"Starscream?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Starscream?"  
  
"I'm busy, Tarla."  
  
"Will Megatron really let me go?"  
  
"Will Prime deliver the energon and give himself up?"  
  
"That wasn't my question. Will Megatron keep his word?"  
  
This discussion sounded more than vaguely familiar. "Megatron does what _he_ thinks is best."  
  
"And you don't agree?" Tarla walked around Ravage, automatically rubbing the puma's metallic ears. "You've stopped talking to me, Starscream."  
  
"You are a human and a prisoner. What happens to you is an act of war, and I am a warrior."  
  
"But as a scientist, you were my friend."  
  
"I am a warrior," Starscream repeated. "And I am no one's friend. I've never regretted my decision to change. Friends are hindrances in war."  
  
"Being a Decepticon must be lonely."  
  
He turned to look at her in disdain. "Are you going to start your damnable Autobot preaching again? Stop your holier-than-thou words. I don't wish to hear them."  
  
"I wasn't preaching. It was only an observation."  
  
"Then stop observing. You know nothing of us. Nothing!"  
  
"But I know Starscream."  
  
"You know less of me than you do of the Decepticons," he told her and got up and left.  
  
Thundercracker popped in a few seconds later. "What's with Screamer?" he asked. "He nearly ran me down in the corridor."  
  
It would be too complicated to try and explain something she didn't fully understand herself. She shrugged.  
  
Thundercracker reached down and ruffled her hair. "Aw, buck up, kiddo. Prime always carries through."  
  
"That's what bothers me. You can afford to be happy. With that bargain carried out, the Decepticons have as good as won." And they made bloody sure she was never left alone again.  
  
"True," Thundercracker agreed happily. "But you'll be safe."  
  
"Thundercracker, if it came between your life and losing the war, which would you chose? Would you rather be alive, when you know that the war was lost because of you?"   
He grinned. "Depends on if Megatron also survived and knew that. I can never figure out if Screamer's the bravest Decepticon or the stupidest, openly trying to cross Megatron the way he does. It's probably a mixture of both."  
  
"Will Megatron really let me go?"  
  
"That's up to him, kiddo."  
  
Her chin came up. "And if he decides to kill me, would you stand for me?"  
  
"Against Megatron? No."  
  
She nodded, thoughtfully.  
  
"Look, kid, the trade's in a couple of hours. Ravage'll bring you."  
  
"Yeah," she said softly. "We'll see you later."  
  
Thundercracker tousled her hair again and went out.  
  
She didn't move for a long time. "I'm scared, Ravage," she finally said very softly. "It's one thing to _say_ that you'd die for a cause. It's another to actually face it, especially if it brings nothing but destruction to those you love."  
  
Ravage rumbled under his breath. Tarla finally stood up and began to stuff things into her knapsack. She hesitated when she came to the flute. It was the best she had ever played, had heard few better. She'd never be able to afford one even close to this quality. Yet she found it difficult to touch it, as if it was stained with the blood of its owner. Blood money. After a long time, she wrapped it in its cloth and fitted it in her pack.  
  
She spend the rest of the time trying to control her shaking. When Ravage stood up and nudged her, she shouldered her pack. He crouched, and she slid up on his back, resting her hands on his withers and automatically gripping with her knees. Not so different from riding horseback.  
  
The first thing she noticed when they entered the control room was the sullen expression on Frenzy's face. It encouraged her slightly. It meant that the small Decepticon was angry that he wouldn't get a chance to kill her... or else that Megatron simply hasn't told him that he had no intention of releasing her into the Autobots' hands.  
  
It still amazed her how easily a smile could come to Megatron's face. The frightening thing was watching how effortlessly the smile would slide into an expression of malevolent triumph. "Good, Ravage. Girl, approach me."  
  
She numbly slid from Ravage's back, but the spy-puma had to nudge her to get her to move forward.  
  
Megatron glanced at Frenzy. "You have nothing to fear, human," he said. "We will escort you to the site of the trade. Prime will cross first, then we will send you across to the Autobots. The energon will be the last segment of the trade, but you need not concern yourself with that. Your affairs with us end when you cross from our lines. We thank you for your help," he added, as an afterthought. "Skywarp will be your transportation."  
  
Tarla glanced beseechingly at Starscream. Skywarp was the only one of the F15 jets who frightened her. His name was apt -- Skywarp's personality was twisted and warped; destruction and the Decepticon cause were one and the same to him. With her eyes, she begged Starscream to intercede, to say he would take her himself.  
  
But Starscream refused to look at her, fixing his gaze on Megatron, his optics burning with war-fervor.  
  
Skywarp transformed, his canopy open. Ravage once more had to nudge her forward, and finally Starscream sighed impatiently, plucked Tarla up in his hand, and plopped her in Skywarp's cockpit. Ravage jumped in next to her, transforming into cassette mode.  
  
She got a glimpse of Starscream and Thundercracker transforming on either side of her, then the forms of dozens of other Decepticons taking to the air as Skywarp launched. Skywarp didn't say anything to her during the flight. But every few minutes, he would laugh, shortly and high-pitched.  
  
Ironically enough, they landed at the meteor site, where all this hell had begun. Skywarp landed and, as the canopy popped open, Tarla saw Prime, Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet standing on the other side of the plateau. They were surrounded by trailer trucks filled with energon cubes. The sight pushed her even farther into the sense of hopelessness that had settled around her.  
  
She numbly crawled out of the cockpit. Ravage landed beside her and Skywarp transformed as soon as her feet touched the ground.  
  
She saw Prime look at her, verifying that she was alive and at least uninjured enough to walk on her own. Then he started across the plateau. She looked up at Megatron, and although his mouth was curved, the expression was twisted past any resemblance of a smile.  
  
And she knew. _Knew._  
  
Megatron was going to kill Optimus Prime.  
  
He'd go on to destroy the Autobots. And Earth.  
  
There really _was_ an importance that was higher than one person's life.  
  
There was no innocence in war. No one was immune.  
  
And it all pivoted on her.  
  
She snapped out of the numbness that had isolated her and looked at Prime. He saw her chin come up, her shoulders square, and he stopped, two-thirds of the way across the plateau.  
  
"I'm sorry, Optimus," Tarla said. She wanted to say more, but didn't have the words. She took one step backwards, her eyes still locked onto Prime's optics, then wheeled and ran, angled so that any stray Decepticon shots at her wouldn't hit any of the Autobots.   
  
It occurred to her, in that brief instant, that perhaps she should have run _towards_ the energon -- maybe they wouldn't have fired, for fear of hitting the energon. It would have been a good idea.  
  
The Autobots all thanked Cybertron she didn't think of it until it was too late.  
  
As Tarla broke into a run, Megatron snarled, aiming his cannon at the fleeing girl. Prime roared and launched himself at the Decepticon leader. The shot went wild, breaking the astonishment of the other Decepticons, and they stepped forward to eliminate Prime and the other three Autobots.  
  
The trucks of energon shimmered and disappeared. In their place stood every Autobot that could have been spared, and smack in the midst of them all was Hound, a triumphant grin plastered across his face at the success of his holograms.  
  
And just as Tarla ducked behind an out-jutting of rock, the Transformers went to war.  
  
If she had thought the last battle had been bad, it was nothing compared to this. For now Tarla had friends on both sides. Ravage -- her Ravage who had chased tennis balls -- was slashing Bumblebee's leg open. Ironhide brought Thundercracker down, pounding with both fists, and one of Starscream's laser bursts caught Jazz in the chest. Rumble pounced on Cliffjumper, and when the Autobot fell, brought both pile-drivers down. One missed. The other crushed Cliffjumper's arm. His scream was drowned under the noise of the battle.  
  
And Optimus Prime had gone beyond the image of the noble leader. The fury, grief, helplessness, pain, and frustration that had been pent up inside him for the last week exploded, and he finally had Megatron in front of him to take it out on. He had no gun, but had wrenched Megatron's cannon away from him, and they were on an equal footing. They had both gone past words and insults. One by one, Megatron drew weapons -- laser sword, mace-like ball-and-chain -- and each one, Prime dodged and placed his own blows to disarm the Decepticon. Megatron fell back, his face a mixture of dismay, confusion, and the beginnings of fear.  
  
"What is it about this human that brings this battle-madness upon you, Optimus? he rasped. Prime didn't answer, but pressed on. Megatron ducked a blow and rammed his shoulder against Prime's chest, knocking him off-balance. Megatron brought him to the ground, one fist gripping Prime's throat, the other one finding a boulder. He brought it up, intending to crush Prime's skull with it, but Prime wrenched himself sideways and rolled up and on top of Megatron, holding the same boulder up in his own hand.  
  
But it never came down. Frenzy had kept out of the battle, slowly working his way to where Tarla was hiding. In a darting move, he grabbed her arm in one hand and the nape of her neck in the other. He pulled her to one side of the out-jutting and twisted her arm. "Go ahead," he urged. "Scream."  
  
Her mouth already open, she realized his attention wasn't on her, but on the war between the two leaders, and in the same second, she realized what Frenzy intended. If she screamed, Prime would undoubtedly break off in an effort to protect her. She sank her teeth into her lip instead, against the pain. Then she felt the bones in her arm snap, and agony lanced through the entire length of her arm and deep into her shoulder. Dimly through the haze of pain, she heard someone screaming, and it wasn't until she heard Frenzy's triumphant laugh that she realized that the screams were hers after all.  
  
The boulder fell from Prime's hand and his optics burned. He roared Frenzy's name and started forward --  
  
-- forgetting Megatron. The Decepticon caught Prime's leg as the Autobot leader lunged away. He tried to heave Prime aside, but Prime's anger had reached peak. Tarla's screams echoed in his audio sensors, the screams that had haunted his imagination day and night. In those tortured imaged, he had been unable to save her.  
  
But this was reality. This was different.  
  
He snarled and blindly turned against the mechanism that was attempting to hold him back, to keep him away from Tarla. Megatron rolled away from Prime's fury, reflected in the ice blue optics and the fierce blows, even more accurate than usual. He let go of Prime for an instant, and that was all Prime needed. He shoved Megatron aside and ran to where Tarla's screams had abruptly stopped.  
  
But someone had been quicker. Someone else had heard Tarla's screams and had leapt onto Frenzy from behind, as was the way of spies. Teeth and claws slashed, Tarla fell away, and Ravage braced himself between Frenzy and the huddled girl behind him. Frenzy howled in anger and pain, then Prime was there, sheltering Tarla against the rest of the battle.  
  
His back was to Megatron.  
  
The Decepticon had found his cannon. In a quick, fluid movement, he reattached it to his arm and aimed at both Prime and the human girl he was protecting.  
  
"Don't do it, Megatron."  
  
He turned and his optics widened in disbelief at Starscream who stood near him, both lasers leveled at him.  
  
"You turn traitor now?" he snarled. "I have Prime in my viewfinder!"  
  
"Not traitor. Not now," Starscream said quietly, the enraged "scream" gone from his voice. "I couldn't care less if you atomized Optimus Prime. But we will not allow you to kill Tarla."  
  
"_We?_" He looked around and saw Thundercracker, also with lasers held carefully on him. Ravage still held Frenzy at bay, his head lowered, eyes flaming, teeth bared. Rumble looked uncertain, but the odds were turned enough. "I'll tear you all limb from limb!"  
  
"I think not," Starscream said. "The human is too well-liked, from both sides. To put it simply, Megatron... we outnumber you."  
  
Their optics met. A silent war blazed for an instant.  
  
"Bah! Decepticons, retreat!" Megatron leapt to the skies, and all the Decepticons followed, except for Starscream and Ravage.  
  
Tarla was cradled in the palm of Prime's hand, but she struggled to stand, carefully holding her broken arm. "Thank you," she said weakly, her eyes on both Decepticons.  
  
Starscream felt the presence of guns held at him, but he held his head high. "I can protect you from Megatron," he said. "Come back with me."  
  
She shook her head slowly, wordlessly, her eyes never leaving his.  
  
He stepped forward. "You are right," he said softly. "It is lonely. Come back with me, Tarla."  
  
"No. _You_ were right. Friends are hindrances in war."  
  
"Come back with me, Tarla," he repeated one more time.  
  
She closed her eyes. "I can't," she said in a broken whisper. "I'd just be waiting, watching you kill my friends, and watching my friends kill my friends, until one of them killed you. I can't live like that."  
  
He waited silently for a moment, then transformed, his canopy open for Ravage. The puma paused by Tarla; she touched his head gently, then he ran and leapt from ground, to Starscream's wing, and into the cockpit.  
  
Ironhide raised his gun and would have fired, but Prime held up his hand. "Let him go."  
  
"But, Prime --"  
  
"Do as I say, Ironhide. He saved both of us."  
  
"It had nothing to do with _you_, Optimus Prime," Starscream snarled and launched.  
  
Tarla watched him leave, her face impassive. Ratchet came up, saying something about getting the injured back to the Arks, and fussing over her arm.  
  
"Yes," she said softly. "I'll return to the Ark. Then I'm leaving. I'm sorry, Optimus," she said, her voice suddenly choked. "But I can't stay with you, either."  
  
She awkwardly ran and climbed into Gears' front seat -- taciturn Gears, who wouldn't ask any questions.  
  
*  
  
It was difficult, trying to fit things into her knapsack with only one arm. The other was encased in a frame of a substance much lighter and firmer than plaster, and it was numbed beyond feeling. It had been broken in three places between the wrist and elbow.  
  
There were two flutes on her next-bed. She studied them both, then packed one, leaving her student flute behind, the one she had first brought with her to the Autobots.  
  
Wheeljack had recovered while she had been gone, and barely believed all that had happened while he had been on temporary deactivation. He had fussed in anger when they told him Tarla was leaving, fussed until Ratchet finally threatened to disconnect his speech synthesizer. The other occupants in the med-bay were mournful enough about Tarla leaving without more complaints, threats, and plots to get her to stay. They all had been said to her by this time already.  
  
But one Autobot dreaded her leaving more than any of the others. Prime was out in the hall when Tarla came out.  
  
"Why?" he asked simply.  
  
"The same reason I told Starscream." Tears rolled silently down her face, but her voice was clear. "I can't stay, watching, knowing my heart is on both sides."  
  
"You care about a Decepticon that much?" He had promised himself he wouldn't ask her that, but it came out so unintentionally that he almost didn't believe he had actually said it.  
  
"I care about you both too much," she said in a whisper. Maybe he wasn't meant to hear the answer. Then again, he knew that she knew his audio receptors would have picked it up no matter how quietly she had spoken.  
  
"Where will you go?"  
  
She shrugged, her arm cast making it an abbreviated movement. "I don't know. Away. I can't run to any side, so I'll head away from them both."  
  
"I love you." It was the first time it had been said.  
  
She winced. He hadn't meant for the words to bring her pain. "I'm sorry," he said.  
  
"I'm a human," she said simply.  
  
He paused for a long moment. "And I am an Autobot," he finally said. "I've ruined your life, haven't I?"  
  
She shook her head. "Not you. After all, I was the one who snuck in here. No one forced me to do that. Fate? Destiny? I don't know. You didn't ruin my life. The War, maybe. You made it bearable."  
  
"Maybe... maybe someday..."  
  
She smiled, no longer the impish grin, but a slow sad smile. She was years older than she had been a week ago. "Someday," she said softly, "there will be no sides. Everyone will be on one." She gazed at him, memorizing each detail, then turned abruptly and walked away. She didn't look back.  
  
There was no one else to see her go. She left with only this one farewell.  
  
A few minutes later, Brawn found Prime in the same place. He looked at Prime for a long moment, then set down the large drum he was carrying. It sloshed.  
  
"She's gone, eh?" he asked. Prime nodded, and Brawn looked thoughtful. "I'll miss her," he said after a while. He tapped the drum. "Delivery to you from Seaspray. Says he wishes you two the best."  
  
Prime looked at the drum. The water that changed a person's form -- that could change an Autobot to a human, or a human to an Autobot. "Thank you, Brawn," he said quietly, and Brawn left.  
  
Prime picked up the drum and keyed open the door to the storage room. The first thing he noticed was the faint smell of jasmine. The second was the abandoned flute.  
  
He set the drum down. "Someday," he said to it and to the empty room. "Someday, when all are one."  
  
He turned and walked out, keying the door shut on the herbal fragrance and the echoes of flute music.  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
  
The sun set behind the ridges of the valley. Tarla curled up on a large rock. The reds of the sky turned the edges of the meteor crater black.  
  
When she could no longer make out cliff from sky, twin pin-points of red light broke away from the darkness and made their way toward her. The rising moon glinted off steel, and Starscream stopped in front of her.  
  
They didn't speak. There was a soft rustle, barely heard, and Ravage melted out of the night to lay his head on the rock next to Tarla.  
  
She stood and carefully shouldered her pack on her good shoulder. Ravage crouched, and she slipped up on his back.  
  
They began to walk, and the darkness swallowed up three just as effortlessly as it had already done two.  
  
--finis--  
  



End file.
